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IN 


MADEIRA,  LISBON,  AND  THE  MEDITERRANEAN. 


BY    REV.  WALTER    COLTON, 

LATE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  NAVT. 


REVISE.D  FROM  THE 

"JOURNAL  OF  A  CRUISE  TN  THE  FRIGATE  COXSTELLATION," 

BY  EEV.  HENRY  T.  CHEEVEE. 


NEW   YORK: 
PUBLISHED    BY    A.    S.   BARNES  &   CO., 

NO.   51   JOHN-STREET. 
CINCINNATI:— II.  W.  DERBY   &  CO. 

1851. 


Eutered  according  to  Act  of  Coagress,  in  the  year  Eighteen  Huiidivn  <ind  Fifty-one, 

By  a.  S.  BARNES  &  COMPANY, 

tn  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Distiict  Court  of  Ihe  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  Yuiiv. 


Stbrsotyped  B1 

RICHARD   C.  VALENTINE, 

NETiff  TonK, 


T   C.  GUTIERREZ,  Printer, 
Comer  of  Jolm  and  Dutcb  stresta. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


In  reproducing  "  The  Ship  and  Shore"  for  the  author's  friends, 
and  the  public  generally,  the  Publishers  are  only  doing  what  it 
was  the  intention  of  Mr.  Colton  to  have  done,  had  his  life  been 
spared.  In  the  Work  of  revision,  which,  by  his  lamented  death, 
had  to  be  transferred  to  other  hands,  the  Editor  has  attempted 
only  such  erasures  and  corrections  as  he  believes  the  author 
vvould  himself  have  made. 

He  has  also  supplied  appropriate  mottoes  to  the  chapters, 
chiefly  from  Mr.  CoUon's  fugitive  poetry,  and  has  sometimes 
condensed  two  chapters  into  one;  and  he  has  not  hesitated  to 
introduce  such  illustrative  matter,  from  other  manuscripts  of  the 
author  lodged  in  his  hands,  as  seemed  to  him  likely  to  enhance 
the  value  of  the  present  work.  Having  gone  over  a  part  of  the 
same  ground  which  this  book  traverses,  and  at  a  later  date  than 
its  writer,  the  Editor  has  been  able  to  correct  a  few  unimportant 
mistakes,  as  well  as  numerous  typographical  errors  which  crept 
into  the  first  issue. 

It  was  in  this  work  that  Mr.  Colton  made  his  first  assay  as  an 
author  without  a  name.  The  favor  with  which  it  was  received, 
was  a  prophecy  of  the  success  of  his  after  works,  for  it  procured 
him  an  honorable  fame,  both  as  a  poet  of  promise  and  a  spirited 
writer  of  lively  prose.  It  is  upon  this  ascertained  judgment  of 
the  public,  and  upon  the  interest  felt  in  the  autlior  by  reason  of 
his  late  successful  career  in  California,  both  as  author  and  judge, 
and  his  recent  death,  just  as  he  had  returned  to  enjoy  his  emolu- 
ments and  honors,  that  the  publishers  have  ventured  to  under- 
take his  writings  in  due  order. 

The  present  volume  will  be  followed  by  another,  under  the 
same  editorial  supervision,  to  be  called  "  Land  and  Lee  in  the 
Bosphorus  and  Mgean."  The  whole  series  will  consist  of  five 
volumes,  of  uniform  size  with  "  Deck  and  Port,"  and  "  Three 
Years  in  California,"  already  issued. 


PREFACE. 

In  defiance  of  a  profound  maxim  of  my  distant  relative 
— I  say  distant,  because  he  was  so  far  removed  fpun  me 
on  the  genealogical  tree  that  even  a  Yankee  peddler  in  the 
remote  part  of  the  South  would  not,  upon  the  force  of  such 
a  relationship,  put  up  his  horse  and  himself  for  more  than 
six  weeks,  and  that  must  place  him  on  a  very  extreme  twig, 
perhaps  even  its  shadow. — By  the  way — it  is  a  little  singu- 
lar that  these  fellows  of  the  wooden  nutmeg  should  always 
know  where  to  find  a  market  for  their  nuts  and  notions. — 
But  as  I  was  saying — in  defiance  of  a  profound  maxim  of 
my  distant  relative — what  a  world  of  tender  thoughts  and 
emotions  spring  up  in  that  one  word  relative  ! — what  beings 
step  from  the  magic  of  its  circle : — uncles  not  a  few,  aunts 
without  number,  and  cousins  a  whole  ship-load — all  taking 
a  warm  interest  in  you  if  rich,  a  pride  in  you  if  learned  or 
politically  great,  and  never  deserting  you  unless  you  become 
poor  —  blessings  on  their  sweet  hearts  !  —  Without  them 
what  would  a  man  be,  or  rather,  what  would  the  world  be 
to  him  ? — A  garden  without  a  flower,  a  grove  without  a 
bird,  an  evening  sky  without  one  lovely  star. — His  feelings 
would  break  over  his  desolate  heart,  Uke  a  sunless  ocean 


8  PJREFACE. 


surging  over  a  dead  world. — But  as  I  was  saying — in  deti- 
aace  of  a  profound  maxim  of  my  distant  relative,  the  author 
of — that  word  author  ! — it  never  had  such  a  fearful  mean- 
ing to  me  before. — It  may  be  my  imagination,  but  it  seems 
like  a  garment  lined  wnth  sharp  hatchel-teeth  to  be  wrapped 
around  my  naked  form. — It  so  agitates  my  whole  system, 
that  my  poor  bedstead  gets  into  such  a  shake  every  night, 
as  to  take  quite  all  the  next  day  for  it  to  become  tranquil, 
and  even  then  the  tester  trembles  like  an  aspen  leaf,  or  a 
pigeon,  in  a  thunder-storm. — To  see  others  become  authors 
— to  see  them  tried,  condemned,  and  executed,  is  compara- 
tively nothing ;  but  to  be  put  to  the  bar  yourself — to  hear 
your  own  sentence — to  see  the  noose  tied  for  your  own  neck, 
and  to  know  that  among  the  thousands  who  are  gathering 
to  witness  your  swinging  fidgets,  not  one  heart  will  throb 
with  pity  ; — it  is  this  which  so  agitates  and  confounds  me  ! — 
But  as  I  was  saying — in  defiance  of  a  profound  maxim  of 
my  distant  relative,  the  author  of  Lacon — that  is  a  book 
which  only  the  wise  will  read,  and  only  the  profound  can 
comprehend, — it  is  an  intellectual  mine,  where  every  thought 
is  a  diamond  of  the  keenest  edge,  and  most  brilliant  ray,  and 
where  giants  may  work  with  their  pickaxes  and  still  leave 
it  unexplored  ;  and  yet  he  who  created  this  mine  had  nothing 
about  him  in  keeping  with  it — no  consistency  in  morals  or 
money. — He  was  the  most  singular  of  men — dining  on  a 
herring,  and  keeping  the  most  splendid  coach  in  London — 
wearing  a  hat  soiled  and  rent  with  year^  and  trowsers  that 


PREFACE.  9 


betrayed  at  the  bottoms  of  their  legs  the  gnawing  despair 
of  some  famishing  rat,  and  carrying  at  the  same  time  in  the 
top  of  his  snuff-box  a  diamond  that  was  itself  an  indepen- 
dent fortune, — preaching  a  part  of  the  year  to  his  English 
parishioners,  and  gambling  out  the  rest  in  the  French  me- 
tropolis.— But  as  I  was  saying — in  defiance  of  a  profound 
maxim  of  my  distant  relative,  the  author  of  Lacon — who,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  committed  suicide — committed  it  too,  after 
having  penned  against  the  act  an  aphorism  that  might  well 
have  fallen  from  the  lips  of  an  angel ; — an  aphorism  num- 
bered in  his  manuscripts  C  C  C,  which  express  not  only  its 
numerical  relation,  but  the  initials  of  his  own  name,  as  if 
he  had  unknowingly  addressed  it  to  himself. — If  there  be 
not  something  more  than  mere  coincidence  in  this,  then 
there  is  no  truth  in  my  grandmother's  manual  on  auguries. 
— And  yet  he  committed  the  act ; — but  such  is  ever  the  in- 
consistency of  one  who  has  broken  the  balance-wheel  in  his 
moral  nature. — He  is  like  a  ship  that  has  lost  her  helm — 
with  which  the  winds  for  a  time  disport,  then  dash  it  on  the 
rocks  ! — But  as  I  was  saying — in  defiance  of  a  profound 
maxim  of  my  distant  relative,  the  author  of  Lacon,  which 

says there  !    I  have  forgotten  now  what  it  says — this  is 

a  hard  case — for  I  was  just  making  port — all  ready  to  let 
go  anchor — and  I  am  now  out  at  sea  again  in  a  fog : — this 
dirty,  thick  weather  always  comes  on  as  you  near  a  coast 
— it  has  been  the  cause  of  more  shipwrecks  than  all  the 
tempests  put  together. — Most  people  think  the  nearer  the 


1* 


10  PKIilFACE. 


shore  the  safei-  the  ship  : — directly  the  reverse — a  whale  is 
never  stranded  at  sea,  nor  is  a  ship — unless  an  island  comes 
bobbing  up  out  of  the  water  hke  Venus — a  debut  which  I 
think  was  in  extremely  bad  taste. — But — the  fog  begins  to 
break  away — and  now,  as  I  was  saying,  in  defiance  of  a 
profound  maxim  of  my  distant  relative,  the  author  of  Lacon, 
which  says, — "a  writer  who  cannot  throw  fire  into  his 
works  ought  to  throw  his  Avorks  into  the  fire  " — I  publish 
this  book — rather,  I  allow  it  to  escape. 

Go,  little  book,  I  will  not  burn  thee, 

Wander  at  will  the  country  o'er. 
And  tell  to  all  who  do  not  spurn  thee. 

Thy  simple  tale  of  Ship  and  Shore. 


Author. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Page 


The  Light-House — Pleasures  and  Pains  of  Memory — Un. 
accountable  Presentiment — Loss  of  Companions — Ship 
Discipline — Ladies  on  board  a  Man-of-War — Ward- 
Room  Officers  and  Midshipmen — Traits  of  a  Sailor — 
The  Setting  Sun— Tribute  to  Woman— Funeral  at  Sea 
— Welcome  to  a  lost  Bird H 


CHAPTER  IL 

First  Sight  of  Land — Peak  of  Pico — Terceira — City  of  An- 
gra — Visit  to  the  Shore — Appearance  of  the  Inhabit- 
ants— Cathedral — Vespers — Convent — Nuns — Gardens 
Singular  Monument — Shaving  the  Hog — A  Gale  and 
Wreck 34 


CHAPTER  in. 

Madeira — First  Appearance — Glories  of  Sunset — Ride  into 
the  Interior — Ponies  and  Burroqueros — Deep  Ravines 
— Peasantry — A  Madeiran  Beauty — An  English  Lady 
— Dinner  and  Dancing 46 


12  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Pag^o 


Madeira  continued— Excursion— Villa  of  an  English  Bache- 
lor—Tragical Death  of  George  Canning— Wild  Ravine 
— Sino-ular  Waterfall— Lady  of  the  Mount— Supersti- 
tion— The  Dying  Mother's  Request— Star  of  Bethle- 
hem—Visit to  the  Convent  of  Santa  Clara— Introduc- 
tion to  a  beautiful  Nun— Her  involuntary  Confinement 
— Personal  Attractions — Mental  Accomplishments — 
Proposed  scheme  of  Escape 5*7 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  singular  Marriage— Cathedral— Clergy— Weighing  a  Prot- 
estant— The  proscribed  Fidalgo — Camancha  Villa — 
Its  Lady— The  Ribeiro — A  sleeping  Sentinel — Force  of 
human  Sympathy— Mystery  of  Sleep— Joy  of  Morning 
— Matins  of  Maria — Ride  to  the  Curral — Stupendous 
Scenery — Quiet  Hamlet — Force  of  Habit — Saint's  Day 
— Homage  of  Gunpowder — Recollections  of  Home — 
Twilight— The  Vesper-Bell 74 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Sketches  of  Madeira — Physical  Features — ^Wines — Climate 
— City  of  Funchal — Priests — Society — Morals — Peas- 
antry— Merchants — Political  Opinions — Habits  of  the 
Ladies — Courtships — Our  Parting  and  Farewell 92 


CONTENTS.  13 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Page 


Passage  from  Madeira  to  Lisbon — Sea-sickness  as  a  Purga- 
torial state — Situation  of  a  Member  of  Congress  and 
Officer  of  the  Navy  compared — Rock  of  Lisbon — Pilot 
— Tagus — Cheering — Rockets — Don  Miguel — City  of 
Lisbon — Cabriolets — Postillion — Madam  Julia's  Hotel 
— A  partisan  Merchant — Alcantra  Aqueduct — Church 
of  St.  Roque — Mosaics — Queen  Maria  First — Church 
of  St.  Domingo — Statue  of  King  Joseph — The  Earth- 
quake— Inquisition 104 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Excursion  to  Cintra — Scenery — Marialva  Villa — Peter's 
Prison — Penha  Convent — Royal  Palace — Visit  to  Mafra 
Castle — Its  Extent — Richness — Singular  Origin — Re- 
turn to  Lisbon — Its  Streets  and  Doafs — Don  Mio-uel — 
Habits  of  the  Females — Friars  and  Monks — Perils  of 
Night-walking — Impositions  on  Strangers — A  Blind 
Musician — Political  Disasters , 127 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Passage  from  Lisbon  to  Gibraltar — Diversions  of  the  Sailor 
— His  Tact  at  Telling  Stories — Love  of  the  Song — 
Fondness  for  Dancing — Unhappy  Propensities — Duty  of 
the  Government  towards  him — Gibraltar — A  befitting 
Emblem  of  British  power — Romance  of  its  History — 


14  CONTENTS. 


Page 

rortifications — Troops — Motley  Population — Summit 
of  the  Rook— St.  IVfichael's  Cave— The  Five  Hundred— 
Monboddo's  Originals — Pleasure  Party — Music  and  a 
Mermaid 152 


CHAPTER  X. 

Malaga — Coming  to  Anchor — Cathedral — Tomb  of  Moliana 
— Fiddles  and  Organs  in  Churches — Castle  of  the 
Moors — Hours  of  a  Malaguena — Traits  of  a  singular 
Bandit — A  Spanish  Lady — Twiliglit  and  the  Prome- 
nade— A  Funeral 172 


CHAPTER  XL 

Passage  from  Malaga  to  Mahon — Tedious  Calms — Reliev- 
ing Incidents — Vist  of  a  Bird — Capture  of  an  ominous 
Shark — Intrusions  of  a  Ghost — Unfair  taking  otf  of  a 
Black  Cat — Petted  Hedge-hog — Morgan's  Spectre  at 
Niagara — Mahon — Harbor — Fort  St.  Philip — Admiral 
Byng — Lazaretto — Navy-Yard — Habits  of  the  Mahon- 
ees — Effects  of  a  certain  vice  on  Man — Grand  Organ — 
Sailors  on  Shore — Jack  and  the  Opera — Entertain- 
ments      187 


CHAPTER  XIL 

Passage  from  Mahon  to  Naples — Life  at  Sea — Chest  of  a 
Sailor — Power  of  a  Poet — Track  of  the  Ship — Naples 
from  the  Harbor — Unreasonable  Quarantine — Grievous 


CONTENTS.  15 


Page 

Disappointment — Premature  Departure — Ebullition  of 
Spleen — Passage  from  Naples  to  Messina — ^Volcano  of 
Stromboli — Dead  Calms — Utility  of  Whales — Pastimes 
in  Calms — Faro  di  Messina — Charybdis  and  Scylla — 
Ancient  Whirlpool — Curiosities  of  the  Sea — Messina 
from  the  Strait 214 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

Excursion  to  Mount  Etna — Sleeping  in  a  Corn-field — 
Incidents  of  the  Ascent — Storm  at  Night — View  from 
the  Summit — Descent — Catania — Gayety  of  the  Living 
above  the  Dead — Museum  of  the  Prince  of  Biscari — 
Franciscan  Monk — Passage  from  Messina  to  Milo — 
Murat  and  Ney — Tides  of  the  Strait — Island  of  Candia 
— Island  of  Cerigo — Aspect  of  Milo — Historic  Inci- 
dents— Greek  Pilot — Medicinal  Springs — Natural  Grot- 
toes— Ancient  Tombs 235 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Town  of  Milo — Steepness  of  the  Streets — Advice  to  Dis- 
tillers— Statue  of  Venus — View  from  the  Town — 
Greek  Wedding — Dress  and  Person  of  the  Bride — 
Fickleness  of  Fashions  in  Dress — Anecdote  of  Franklm 
— Passage  from  MOo  to  Smyrna — Cape  Colonna — 
Temple  of  Minerva— Profession  of  Pirates— Island  of 
Ipsara — Aspect  of  Scio— Massacre  of  the  Inhabitants 
— Conduct  of  the  Allies— Gulf  of  Smyrna — Ancient 
Clazomenge — Traits  of  tlie  Sailor 268 


16  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Faga 


Smyrna — Its  Seamen — Motley  Population — The  Tartar  Jan- 
izary— Modern  Warfare — Encounters  in  threading  the 
Streets — Fruit  Market — Bazars — Greek  Girls — Turkish 
Burial-Ground — The  Child  unacquainted  with  Death — 
Smyrna  continued — Religious  Sects — Visit  to  Gov- 
ernor— His  Palace — Pipes — Horses — Troops — Coffee- 
House  Scene — Prayers  of  the  Mussulmen — Martyrdom 
of  Polycarp — Birth-place  of  Homer — Parting  with  the 
Reader 283 


SHIP  AND  SHORE. 


CHAPTER    T, 


A  sAiLOii  ever  loves  to  be  in  motion, 

Roaming  about,  he  scarce  knows  where  or  why  ; 

He  looks  upon  the  dim  and  shadowy  ocean 
As  home — abhors  the  land ;  and  e'en  the  sky, 

Boundless  and  beautiful,  has  naught  to  plea'^e, 

Except  some  clouds,  which  promise  him  a  breeze. 

THE  LIGHT-HOUSE PLEASURES    AND    PAINS  OP"  MEMORY UNACCOUNTABLE 

PRESENTIMENT — LOSS    OF    COMPANIONS — SHIP     DISCIPLINE — LADIES    ON 

BOARD     A     MAN-OF-WAR WARD-ROOM     OFFICERS     AND     MIDSHIPMEN 

TRAITS     OF     A     SAILOR THE    SETTING    SUN TRIBUTE    TO    WOMAN FU- 
NERAL AT  SEA WELCOME  TO  A  LOST  BIRD. 

It  is  now  seven  days  since  we  weiii;lied  anchor  in 
Hampton  Hoads,  and  took  our  parting  leave  of  the 
land.  The  last  object  that  vanished  from  my  stead- 
fast eye,  was  the  old  Light-house  on  Cape  Henry. 
I  watched  that  as  it  sunk  slowly  in  the  horizon,  and 
felt,  when  it  was  gone,  as  one  that  has  parted  with  a 
venerable,  attached  friend.  Never  before  did  a  light- 
house appear  to  me  an  object  of  such  beauty,  fidelity, 
and  affectionate  regard.  It  seemed  as  if  it  had  come 
forth  from  the  thousand  objects  of  the  hearths  yearn- 
ing remembrances,  to  take  its  position  on  that  prom- 


13  SHIP    AND    SHOEE. 

outoiy,  where  it  might  look  its  last  farewell,   and 
express  its  kindest  wishes. 

During  the  seven  days  that  we  have  been  at  sea,  I 
have  lived  but  in  the  past.  The  segment  of  life's 
poor  circle  through  which  I  have  gone  has  sprung 
again  from  its  grave  of  memory,  bringing  with  it  each 
incident  of  pleasure  and  sorrow,  each  object  of  pur- 
suing hope  and  lingering  endearment.  How  mys- 
terious is  the  spirit  of  memory — how  painfully  true  to 
the  objects  of  its  trust — how  quick  and  vital  over  the 
relics  of  joys  that  have  fled,  friendships  that  have 
ceased,  errors  that  have  been  wept !  How  intensely 
it  concentrates  into  a  point,  years  of  wisdom  or  weak- 
ness, pleasure  or  pain — pouring  through  the  soul,  in 
an  unbroken  current,  the  mingled  sensations  that  have 
blessed  or  blighted  its  previous  existence  ! 

The  ocean  is  its  empire.  I  should  not  envy  a  guilty 
man  his  repose,  w^ho  should  here  seek  an  escape  from 
the  deserts  and  the  haunting  remembrance  of  his 
crimes.  Every  wave  in  this  vast  solitude  would  speak 
to  him  as  from  eternity,  and  every  dark  cloud  would 
bear  in  its  folds  a  message  of  wildest  thunder.  If 
there  be  a  cavern  in  hell,  where  anguish  is  without 
alleviation,  it  must  be  that  where  a  guilty  spirit  suffers 
in  solitude, 

I  am  not  a  believer  in  supernatural  intimations,  yet 
the  presentiment  that  I  am  never  to  retrace  my  steps, 
that  I  shall  never  see  asjain  the  cherished  beino-s  that 
encircle  the  hearth  of  my  home,  clings  to  my  heart 


UNACCOUNTABLE  PEESEKTBrENT.  10 

with  a  dark  and  desperate  pertinacity.  Yon  may 
smile  at  this,  if  you  will,  and  expose  its  want  of  phi- 
losophy, but  it  is  proof  against  all  argument  and 
ridicule.  It  is  not  the  effect  of  fear,  for  this  is  not  the 
first  time  that  I  have  been  at  sea,  and  my  confidence 
in  the  power  and  capacity  of  a  ship  to  triumph  over 
the  conflicting  elements,  has  increased  with  every 
day's  exj)erience.  I^or  is  it  from  any  apprehensions 
connected  with  those  diseases  which  frequently  scourge 
the  places  Avhich  we  are  to  visit ;  for  I  have  been  in 
those  putrid  ports  and  cities,  where  one  of  the  most 
familiar  sights  is  the  black  hearse  rumbling  on  its 
dismal  errand.  Nor  is  it  to  be  traced  to  any  fearful 
inferences  from  an  extreme  feebleness  of  constitution  ; 
for  this  Yerj  debility  is  frequently  the  best  shield 
against  malignant  disease.  The  sturdy  oak  breaks 
before  the  tempest,  but  the  pliant  sapling  yields,  and 
when  the  storm  has  passed  over  erects  itself.  ISTor  is 
this  gloomy  presentiment  ascribable  to  that  melan- 
choly mood  of  mind  which  darkly  predicts  ills  that 
are  never  to  be  experienced,  nor  to  that  morbid 
sentimentality  which  affects  sorrows  that  are  never 
felt. 

It  is  rather  an  undefined,  involuntary,  and  inex- 
plicable conviction  which  reason  did  not  induce,  and 
which  reason  cannot  force  away.  Dr.  Johnson  be- 
lieved in  ghosts,  and  would  not  cross  his  threshold 
left  foot  first ;  and  no  arguments,  however  profound 
and  ingenious,  could  have  convinced  that  sagacious 


20  Sllir    AND   SIIOKE. 


vca^Kiier  tluit  he  was  unphilosopliical  or  superstitions. 
The  hare  is  not  timid  that  trembles  where  the  lion 
shakes. 

Had  any  one  told  me  a  few  years  since  that  I  was 
to  become  a  sailor,  tliat  I  shonld  at  this  time  be  on 
board  a  Man-of-war,  bound  to  the  Mediterranean,  I 
should  have  regarded  the  prediction  with  incredulous 
amazement.     But 

"  How  little  do  we  know,  that  which  we  are  : 
How  less,  what  we  may  be  !" 

Time  and  the  force  of  circumstances  work  changes 
upon  us  of  which  we  little  dream.  The  very  habits 
which  fitted  me  for  the  contemplative  quietude  of  the 
closet,  by  undermining  my  health,  have  driven  me 
into  an  opposite  extreme ;  for  there  is  no  situation 
where  every  element  is  more  stirring  and  restless, 
than  on  board  an  armed  ship.  It  would  seem  as  if 
the  principles  of  a  perpetual  motion  had  found  a 
fevorite  lodgment  in  every  particle  of  which  this  vast 
floating  fabric  is  composed.  There  is  not  a  spar,  or 
plank,  or  rope,  that  does  not  appear  to  have  caught 
this  spirit  of  uneasiness  ;  much  more  the  jovial  tar, 
whose  home  is  on  the  mountain  wave,  who  loves  the 
quick  breeze  and  the  rapid  sea,  and  who  regards  a 
life  free  from  these  excitements,  as  a  state  of  listless- 
ness  and  inactivity  unbecoming  a  breathing  man. 

I  am  not  quite  a  stranger  to  the  peculiarities  of 
my  present  condition.  A  former  cruise  in  another 
quarter  has  familiarized  me  in  some  measure  to  the 


LOSS    OF   COMrANIONS.  21 

strange  habitudes  of  nautical  life,  Alas  !  I  can  never 
think  of  that  cruise  without  grief.  We  left  there 
three  of  our  dearest  companions,  who  will  return  no 
more !  They  were  in  the  spring-time  of  life,  full  of 
hope,  enterprise,  and  lofty  resolutions,  but  they  have 
gone  down  to  the  silence  and  dreamless  sleep  of  the 
grave.  Their  generous  purposes  and  goodly  promise* 
have  all  perished  in  the  bud.  How  often  has  the 
mother,  in  the  depth  of  her  anguish,  doubted  the 
melancholy  tale  ;  and  how  has  the  little  sister,  unac- 
quainted with  death,  still  expected  her  brother's  re- 
turn !  Spring  shall  return  with  its  buds  of  promise, 
summer  with  its  purpling  fruits,  autumn  with  its 
golden  harvest,  but  these  come  not  again  ;  there  is  no 
returning  pathway  through  the  grave. 

The  journal  which  I  have  now  commenced,  and 
which  I  intend  to  continue  during  the  cruise,  shall  be 
confined  mainly  to  my  first  and  freshest  impressions. 
I  will  cast  into  it  the  bright,  the  mournful,  the  deep 
or  transient  feeUngs,  which  the  diiferent  incidents  or 
objects  encountered  may  awaken.  There  is  only  one 
subject  upon  which  I  shall  reserve  myself,  and  that 
is  the  government,  the  discipline  of  the  ship.  The 
moral  and  political  mechanism  of  a  floating  commu- 
nity like  this  is  too  peculiar,  too  intricate  and  com- 
plicated for  hasty  o]Dinion,  and  I  shall  therefore  wait 
the  results  of  the  fullest  experience. 

Few  situations  involve  a  more  perplexing  respon- 
sibility or  require  a  higher  combination  of  rare  tal- 


09, 


SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


ent,  than  that  of  a  commander  of  a  national  ship. 
To  be  }X)pu]ar,  and  at  the  same  time  efficient,  he  must 
be  able  to  enforce  a  most  strict  and  rigid  discipline, 
without  giving  to  it  that  cast  of  unfeeling  severity,  to 
which  the  despotical  nature  of  a  ship's  government  is 
extremely  liable.  He  must  be  open  and  undisguised, 
and  express  even  his  sentiments  of  disapprobation 
with  a  freedom  and  frankness,  which  may  lead  the 
subordinate  officer  to  the  instantaneous  conviction 
that  there  are  no  su23pressed  feelings  of  bitterness, 
which  may,  in  an  miexpected  hour,  reveal  their  nour- 
ished and  terrific  strength.  This  plain  and  honest 
dealing  is  infinitely  preferable  to  a  heartless  hypoc- 
risy of  manner ;  it  relieves  all  around  from  those  dis- 
quieting suspicions  which  du23licity  never  fails  to  ex- 
cite ;  and  where  it  is  united  with  a  generous  disposi- 
tion, a  well-informed  mind,  and  a  dignified  demeanor, 
cannot  fail  to  secure  affection  and  respect. 

As  my  opinions  may  perchance,  hereafter,  be 
quoted  as  law  on  questions  aifecting  the  interests 
and  etiquette  of  the  service,  there  is  another  subject 
on  which  I  must  be  for  the  present  discreetly  re- 
served. This  involves  the  exj^ediency  and  propriety 
of  permitting  us  to  take  out  our  ladies  on  board  our 
public  ships.  It  will  appear,  as  I  am  aware,  ungal- 
lant  to  hesitate  over  an  immediate  and  unqualified 
approbation  of  this  license  ;  but  as  my  decision  is  to 
strike  through  all  future  usage  in  the  service,  and  as 
its  condemnatory  features  might  be  ascribed  to  the 


PLEA   FOK  THE   LADIES.  23 


fact  of  my  not  having  any  one  to  take  out,  were  the 
privilege  granted,  I  shall  withhold  it  till  events  may 
place  it  beyond  the  reach  of  such  a  cynical  construc- 
tion. 

Yet,  could  any  one  disposed  to  arraign  this  meas- 
ure, have  seen  the  quantity  of  letters  that  went  back 
by  the  return  boat  of  the  pilot,  and  above  all,  could 
he  have  glanced  into  the  contents  of  those  epistles, 
and  marked  the  tears  and  passionate  fervors  that 
mingled  there,  like  rain  and  lightning  in  a  summer's 
cloud,  he  would  have  exclaimed,  in  relenting  tender- 
ness, let  the  cherished  beings  of  their  bosom  go  with 
them  !  Separate  not,  by  a  wide  ocean,  hearts  so  in- 
tensely united — beings  so  entirely  formed  for  one 
hearth  and  home !  Even  Jack  sent  back  the  evi- 
dence of  his  truth :  his  scarcely  legible  scrawl  may 
have  given  a  fresh  and  bleeding  life  to  aifections,  not 
the  less  deep  on  account  of  a  simple,  rude  exterior. 
The  vigor  of  the  bow  depends  not  on  the  beauty  of 
its  polish. 

There  is  another  subject  upon  which  I  must  be  a 
little  reserved ; — this  touches  the  character  of  my  im- 
mediate comj)anions,  the  officers  of  the  ward-room. 
We  present,  perhaps,  in  our  assembled  capacity,  as 
great  a  variety  of  intellectual,  moral,  and  social  habit, 
as  any  group  of  the  same  size,  ever  yet  convened  on 
flood  or  field.  There  is  no  shape,  which  thought, 
feeling,  or  association  ever  assumed,  that  may  not 
here  find  a  ready,  unbroken  mold.      We  have  every 


24  SHIP   AJSTD   SHORE. 


thing  from  the  silent  operations  of  a  mind  that  ex- 
presses its  action  only  in  its  priceless  gifts,  to  the  tu- 
multuous agonies  of  an  imagination  that  raises  a  tor- 
nado to  rock  a  rose-bud,  and  rolls  the  globe  over  to 
crush  a  flea.     "We  have  the  officer  who  walks  the 
deck  as  if  he  were   to   be   heard  in  whispers  and 
obeyed  in  silence,  and  the  one  that  gives  his  slightest 
order  in  a  trumpet  voice  that  might  almost  endanger 
the  sleep  of  the  dead.     We  have  the  ever  cheerful 
and  contented  being,  who  would  talk  encouragingly 
on  a  famishing  wi-eck,  and  the  inveterate  complainer, 
who  would  grumble  amid  the  mellow  profusions  of  a 
paradise.     We  have  the  man  of  method,  who  sleeps, 
dreams,  and  wakes  by  rule,  and  the  unsystematized 
being  who  would  lose,  were  it  possible,  his  conscious 
identity;    and  who  will  probably  be  found  at  the 
great  resurrection  coming  out  of  the  grave  of  some 
other  person. 

We  have  a  caterer  wLo  would  purchase  an  ox  for 
the  sake  of  a  sirloin,  and  a  steward  who  would  pur- 
chase an  egg,  were  it  possible,  without  the  expense  of 
the  shell.  We  have  a  sailing-master  who  is  seldom 
wrong  when  he  conjectures,  and  as  rarely  right  when 
he  calculates ;  we  have  a  commissary  who  would 
shoulder  an  Atlas  of  real  responsibility,  and  protest 
against  an  ant-hill  of  petty  inconvenience.  We  have 
a  surgeon  who  would  kneel  in  worship  of  the  beauty, 
harmony,  and  matchless  grace  of  the  human  form, 
and  then  dissect  a  Cytherean  Yenus  to  trace  the  path 


CHARACTER  PAIJSrTmG.  25 

of  an  imaginary  muscle.  We  have  a  marine  officer 
full  of  professional  pride  and  abilitj-,  but  whose 
troops  have  never  been  paralleled  since  Jack  Falstaif 
mustered  his  men.  We  have  a  Chaplajn  who  vehe- 
mently urges  us  on  like  an  invading  ai'my  towards 
heaven,  but  stays  behind  himself,  as  he  says,  to  pick 
up  the  stragglers ;  and  we  have  over  all  a  Command- 
er who  inspires  the  humblest  with  self-respect,  but 
reinstates  the  absolute  principles  of  the  old  school  on 
the  levelling  doctrines  of  the  new. 

Our  incongruities  do  not  stop  here.  We  have  in 
our  steerage  light-hearted  lads,  unacquainted  with  a 
single  rope  in  the  ship,  never  perhaps  from  home, 
certainly  never  at  sea  before,  and  who  are  now  giving 
orders  to  old  weather-beaten  mariners,  who  have 
ploughed  every  ocean  known  to  the  globe.  I  pen 
this  not  in  disparagement  of  these  inexperienced 
youth ;  for  they  have  a  quick  play  of  intelligence  and 
a  freedom  from  vicious  habit,  that  justly  entitles  them 
to  esteem  and  affection.  May  they  be  able  to  pre- 
serve the  "  whiteness  of  the  soul "  untouched  by  the 
evils  that  await  them,  and  revisit  their  sacred  homes 
still  worthy  of  a  mother's  fondness  and  a  Other's 
pride. 

The  tendency  of  early  lessons  of  wisdom  and  piety, 
with  the  incipient  habits  of  childhood,  may  at  times 
be  diverted  and  driven  from  their  course,  but  they 
generally  recover  again  their  original  channels.  If 
there  be  any  security  in  after  vears  against  a  wide 

2 


26  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


departure  from  virtue,  it  is  found  in  tlie  early  instruc- 
tions of  an  anxious,  devoted  mother.  The  course  of 
the  arrow  is  decided  by  the  bow  she  holds  in  her 
hands. 

Our  ship  is  a  frigate  of  the  second  class,  of  light, 
compact,  and  graceful  architecture  ;  she  cuts  her  way 
through  the  water  as  smoothly  and  silently  as  the 
dolphin.  Our  crew  are  more  youthful,  more  full  of 
health  and  vigor,  than  are  usually  met  with  on  the 
deck  of  a  man-of-war.  They  are  remarkably  young, 
as  years  are  reckoned  on  land,  but  the  life  of  a  sailor 
usually  stops  far  short  of  that  period  commonly  allot- 
ted to  man.  His  occupation  and  habits  shake  his 
life-glass  and  hurry  out  its  sands.  I  never  see  one  of 
them  die  without  those  feelings  we  experience  in  see- 
ing a  noble  being  extinguished  before  his  time. 

He  has  points  of  character  that  penetrate  to  your 
deepest  sensibilities.  You  see  him  dividing  his  last 
shilling  with  a  pennyless  stranger, — perilling  his  life 
for  one  who  may  perhaps  never  appreciate  the  self- 
sacrificing  act, — living  to-day  in  gay  forgetfulness  of 
the  evils  which  the  morrow  must  bring, — undergoing 
hardship,  privation,  and  suffering  with  an  unclouded 
cheerfulness, — and  when  death  comes,  resigning  him- 
self to  its  calamity  with  a  composure  that  belongs 
more  to  philosophy  and  religion,  than  the  character- 
istics of  his  rude  life.  If  any  being  full  of  errors, 
generous  impulses,  and  broken  resolves,  may  hope  for 
mercy  in  his  last  account,  it  must  be  the  poor  sailor. 


THE  SPLENDORS  OF  SUNSET.  27 

— the  man  whom  temptation  and  suffering  have  vis- 
ited in  every  fonn,  whose  scanty  enjoyments  have 
been  snatched  from  the  severest  lot,  and  whose  wild 
profession  has  placed  him  essentially  beyond  the 
reach  of  those  redeeming  influences,  to  which  every 
Christian  community  is  indebted  for  its  virtue  and  its 
hope  of  heaven, 

I  have  been  on  deck  at  the  close  of  every  clear  day 
to  see  the  sun  go  down.  This  is  a  beautiful  sight  on 
shore,  but  more  so  at  sea  ;  for  here  the  glowing  orb 
appears  divested  of  that  excessive  brightness,  which 
on  land  frequently  dazzles  and  pains  the  naked  eye 
of  the  beholder.  He  seems  to  partake  of  that  solem- 
nity which  is  felt  through  nature  at  his  disappear- 
ance. The  clouds  which  attended  him  through  the 
day  in  glittering  attire,  now  assume  a  more  sober  as- 
pect, and  put  on  a  dress  of  deeper  richness ;  their  full 
and  flowing  folds  have  a  groundwork  of  pm*ple  and 
gold,  and  as  they  float  together,  they  rear  over  this 
retiring  Monarch  of  the  sky  a  pavilion,  compared  with 
the  magnificence  of  which,  the  splendors  of  the  Ori- 
ental couch  are  but  the  tinsel  which  gilds  the  cradled 
sleep  of  the  nursery. 

When  the  last  ray  that  lingered  above  the  wave 
has  vanished,  and  twilight  is  gone,  the  'deep  blue 
vault  of  heaven  seems  to  sweep  down  to  the  level 
waters,  and  shut  out  all  life,  and  breath,  and  motion, 
beyond  its  incumbent  circle.  It  is  then  you  feel 
alone — earth,  with   its   ceaseless  stir  and   countless 


28  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


voices,  is  shut  out, — there  is  nothing  around,  be- 
neath, above,  but  the  silent  sky  and  the  sleeping 
Ocean.  A  man  who  can  stand  in  such  a  breathless 
solitude  as  this,  and  not  think  with  warm  veneration 
of  Him,  whose  benevolent  eye  notices  the  fall  of  the 
lonely  sj)aiTOW,  must  carry  within  him  a  heart  as 
cold  and  insensible  as  the  marbles  of  the  dead. 

This  observation  was  made  to  one  who  stood  near 
me,  and  whose  fine  suscej)tibilities  were  more  deeply 
touched  than  my  own.  To  her  this  twilight  change, 
and  desert  ocean,  seemed  to  call  up  memories  in 
which  the  he6,rt  lingers  with  a  bewildering  fondness. 
She  has  exchanged  the  security  of  the  shore,  and  the 
society  of  the  most  gentle  and  refined,  for  the  perils 
and  hard  features  of  a  man-of-war.  Her  feelings,  as 
they  break  through  her  conversation,  betray  a  fresh- 
ness and  elevation  of  tone  that  find  their  way  to  your 
aftection  and  esteem.  Cultivated  and  refined,  w^ith- 
out  being  supercilious, — cheerful  and  communicative, 
without  being  obtrusive  or  trifling, — with  mental  en- 
dowments to  entertain  the  best  informed,  and  a  de- 
meanor conciliating  the  most  rude,  she  must  be  de- 
servedly popular  in  her  new  condition,  and  cannot 
fail  to  enhance  the  estimation  in  which  the  fair  of  our 
country  are  held  by  foreigners. 

As  soft  as  falls  the  silken  shade, 

Let  every  sorrow  be 
Which  grief,  or  care,  or  hope  delayed, 

May  ever  cast  on  thee. 


FUNERAL   AT   SEA.  29 


And  sweetly  glide  thine  hours  away 

As  music  from  the  string 
Of  woodland  lyre,  while  o'er  it  stray 

The  fragrant  airs  of  spring. 

And  let  each  joy  be  pure  and  bright 

As  dew  on  infant  flowers, 
Some  tender  theme  of  new  delight 

To  cheer  thy  pensive  hours. 

And  as  a  soft  melodious  lay 

Dies  on  the  still  of  even, 
May  thy  rapt  spirit  pass  away 

And  mingle  into  heaven. 

Death  is  a  fearful  thing,  come  in  what  form  it 
may — fearful  when  the  vital  cords  are  so  gradually 
relaxed,  that  life  passes  away  softly  as  music  from 
the  slumbering  harp-string — fearful  when  in  his  own 
quiet  chamber,  the  departing  one  is  summoned  by 
those  who  sweetly  follow  him  with  their  prayers, 
when  the  assiduities  of  friendship  and  affection  can 
go  no  further,  and  who  discourse  of  heaven  and 
future  blessedness,  till  the  closing  ear  can  no  longer 
catch  the  tones  of  the  long  familiar  voice,  and  who, 
lingering  near,  still  feel  for  the  hushed  pulse,  and 
then  trace  in  the  placid  slumber,  which  pervades 
each  feature,  a  quiet  emblem  of  the  spirit's  serene 
repose. 

What  then  must  this  dread  event  be  to  one,  who 
meets  it  comparatively  alone,  far  away  from  the 
hearth  of  his  home,  upon  a  troubled  sea,  between 


30  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


the  narrow  decks  of  a  restless  ship,  and  at  that  dread 
hour  of  night,  when  even  the  sympathies  of  the  world 
seem  suspended !  Such  has  been  the  end  of  many 
who  traverse  the  ocean,  and  such  was  the  hurried 
end  of  him,  whose  remains  we  have  just  consigned 
to  a  watery  grave. 

He  was  a  sailor,  but  beneath  his  rude  exterior  he 
carried  a  heart  touched  with  refinement,  pride,  and 
greatness.  Tliere  was  something  about  him  which 
sj)oke  of  better  days  and  a  higher  destiny.  By  what 
errors  or  misfortunes  he  was  reduced  to  his  humble 
condition,  was  a  secret  which  he  would  reveal  to 
none.  Silent,  reserved,  and  thoughtful,  he  stood  a 
stranger  among  his  free  companions,  and  never  was 
his  voice  heard  in  the  laughter  or  the  jest.  He  has 
undoubtedly  left  behind  many  who  will  long  look  for 
his  return,  and  bitterly  weep  when  they  are  told  they 
shall  see  his  face  no  more. 

As  the  remains  of  poor  Prether  were  brought  up 
on  deck,  wound  in  that  hammock  which  through 
many  a  stormy  night  had  swung  to  the  wind,  one 
could  not  but  observe  the  big  tear  that  stole  uncon- 
sciously down  the  rough  cheek  of  his  hardy  com- 
panions. When  the  funeral  service  was  read  to  that 
most  affecting  passage — "  we  commit  this  body  to 
the  deep," — and  the  plank  was  heaved,  which  pre- 
cipitated to  the  momentary  eddy  of  the  wave  the 
quickly  disappearing  form,  a  heaving  sigh  from  those 
around  told  that  the  strong  heart  of  the  sailor  can  be 


GRAVE   EST   THE   DEEP.  31 

touched  with  grief,  and  that  a  truly  unaffected  sorrow 
may  accompany  virtue,  in  its  most  mipretending 
form,  to  its  ocean  grave.  Yet  how  soon  is  such  a 
scene  forgotten ! 

"  As  from  the  wing  the  sky  no  scar  retains, 
The  parted  wave  no  furrow  from  the  keel, 
So  dies  in  hmnan  hearts  the  thought  of  death." 

There  is  something  peculiarly  melancholy  and  im- 
pressive in  a  burial  at  sea:  there  is  here  no  colhn 
or  hearse,  procession  or  tolling  bell, — nothing  that 
gradually  prepares  us  for  the  final  separation.  The 
body  is  wound  in  the  dra]3ery  of  its  couch,  much  as 
if  the  deceased  were  only  in  a  quiet  and  temporary 
sleep.  In  these  habiliments  of  seeming  slmnber,  it  is 
dropped  into  the  wave,  the  waters  close  over  it,  the 
vessel  passes  quickly  on,  and  not  a  solitary  trace 
is  left  to  tell  where  sunk  from  light  and  life,  one 
that  loved  to  look  at  the  sky  and  breathe  this  vital 
air.  There  is  nothing  that  for  one  moment  can  point 
to  the  deep,  unvisited  resting-place  of  the  departed, — 
it  is  a  grave  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean — in  the  midst 
of  a  vast  untrodden  solitude.  Affection  cannot  ap- 
proach it  with  its  tears,  the  dews  of  heaven  cannot 
reach  it,  and  tliere  is  around  it  no  violet,  or  shrub,  or 
murmuring  stream. 

It  may  be  superstitious,  but  no  advantages  of 
wealth,  or  honor,  or  power,  through  life,  would  recon- 
cile me  at  its  close  to  such  a  burial.    I  would  rather 


32  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


share  the  coarse  and  scanty  provisions  of  the  simplest 
cabin,  and  drop  away  unknown  and  unhonored  by 
the  world,  so  that  my  final  resting-place  be  beneath 
some  green  tree,  by  the  side  of  some  living  stream, 
or  in  some  familiar  spot,  where  the  few  that  loved  me 
in  life  might  visit  me  in  death.  But  whether  our 
grave  be  in  the  fragrant  shade,  or  in  the  fathomless 
ocean,  among  our  kindred,  or  in  the  midst  of  stran- 
gers, the  day  is  coming  when  we  shall  all  appear  at 
one  universal  bar,  and  receive  from  a  righteous  Judge 
the  award  of  our  deeds.  He  that  is  wisest,  pene- 
ti'ates  the  future  the  deepest. 

The  day  passed  slowly  and  sadly  away, — ^no  sail 
broke  the  farthest  verge  of  the  horizon, — no  passing 
cloud  brought  with  it  the  incense  of  an  unseen 
shore  ;  but  at  night-fall  a  little  bird  was  seen  hover- 
ing in  wide  circles  around  our  ship.  It  had  been 
driven  out  to  sea  in  a  storm,  or  had  wandered  in  its 
careless  mirth  too  far  from  its  native  isle  ;  it  was  un- 
able to  retrace  its  way,  too  timid  to  light,  and  too 
exhausted  to  keep  much  longer  on  the  wing. 

Lonely  wand'rer  o'er  the  ocean, 

Fainting  for  a  place  of  rest, — 
Canst  no  longer  keep  in  motion. 

Durst  not  trust  the  billow's  breast  ? — 


Feeling  fast  thy  strength  diminish, 
Yet  canst  spy  no  friendly  shore, 

And  must  sink,  ere  thou  canst  finish 
One  returning  circle  more? 


THE    STEANGEK   BIRD.  33 


Rest  thee  here — I'll  softly  pillow 
Thy  too  faint  and  feeble  form, — 

Bear  thee  safely  o'er  the  billow, 

Through  this  night  of  cloud  and  storm. 

I  was  once  like  thee  a  stranger, 

Searching  for  a  place  of  rest, 
But  to  peace  and  hope  a  stranger, 

Till  I  found  the  Saviour's  breast. 
2* 


34  SHIP   AND   SHOKE. 


CHAPTER    II. 

In  CiVXMs,  he  gazes  at  the  sleeping  sea, 

Or  seeks  liis  lines,  and  sets  himself  to  angling, 

Or  takes  to  politics,  and,  being  free 

Of  facts,  and  full  of  feeling,  falls  to  wrangling : 

Then  recollects  a  distant  eye  and  lip. 

And  rues  the  day  on  wliich  he  saw  a  ship. 

FIRST  SIGHT  OF  LAND — PEAK  OF  PICO — TERCEIRA — CITY  OF  ANGRA VISIT 

TO  THE  SHORE APPEARANCE  OF  THE   INHABITANTS CATHEDRAL VES- 
PERS  CONVENT NUNS GARDENS SINGULAR    MONUMENT SHAVING 

THE  HOG A  GALE  AND  WRECK. 

There  is  one  short  exclamation  in  our  language, 
which  conveys  to  the  heart  of  one  at  sea  a  more 
thrilling  excitement,  than  the  highest  raptures  of 
poetic  inspiration.  It  has  no  meaning  to  a  man  who 
plods  out  his  days  on  the  uneventful  earth,  but  to 
one  who  moves  from  zone  to  zone  upon  the  "  blue 
wave,"  and  has  many  days  since  parted  with  the 
shore,  it  comes  like  a  glad  message  from  another 
world — "  Land,  ho  !"  I  heard  it  this  morning  from 
mast-head  just  at  the  break  of  day,  and  sprang  upon 
deck,  with  eye  never  so  quickly  cleared  to  catch  a 
sight  of  what  it  conveyed ;  but  I  could  see  nothing 
except  a  heavy  bank  of  clouds  over  oiu*  larboard 
bow. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  said  the  old  cruiser  who  stood 


PEAK   OF   PICO.  35 


near  me,  "  that  bit  of  a  dark  spot  there,  bobbing  up 
like  a  buoy  out  of  water — there,  now  it's  gone,  but 
keep  it  in  yoiu'  eye,  and  you'll  see  it  again  in  a 
minute,  just  under  the  stern  of  that  scudding  cloud." 
So  I  fixed  my  eye  on  the  cloud,  which  the  fancy  of 
the  old  seaman  had  converted  into  a  well-rigged  ship, 
which  had  just  obtnided  its  dusky  sides  between  us 
and  that  dark  spot  against  the  sky,  but  I  was  still 
uncertain  at  what  precise  point  upon  the  hull  to 
look,  not  being  able  to  distinguish  the  stern  from  the 
stem  in  this  aerial  craft.  "  There,  there,  sir,  it  comes 
again,"  whispered  the  sharj)-eyed  tar.  "  At  which 
end  of  the  cloud  ?"  I  inquired,  impatiently.  "  At  her 
stern,  sir,  at  her  stern,  close  under  her  spanker 
boom,"  was  the  technical  reply,  which  betrayed  a 
much  better  knowledge  of  nautical  phrases,  than  of 
an  intelligible  relationship  between  an  obscuring 
cloud,  and  a  sharp,  elevated  point  of  land. 

This  "  dark  spot"  on  the  sky,  of  a  towering  sugar- 
loaf  shape,  and  distinguishable  in  this  respect  only, 
from  the  thick  and  motionless  mass  of  clouds  which 
lay  beneath  it,  proved  to  be  the  Peak  of  Pico,  rising 
abruptly  some  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea,  and  which  may  be  seen  in  clear  weather  at  a 
distance  of  eighty  miles.  "We  were  so  near  it,  that 
two  hours'  sail  brought  into  beautiful  relief,  upon  the 
sides  of  its  green  acclivities,  the  white  cottages  of  its 
inhabitants.  I  longed  to  leap  upon  its  shore,  and 
moimt  its  steep  cliffs,  but  we  were  sailing  for  Ter- 


36  SHIP   AND   SHOKE. 

ceira.  Adieu  then  to  Pico,  to  its  vine-clad  hills,  and 
its  volcanic  peak,  beneath  which  the  rainbow  and 
thunder-cloud  dwell  in  strange  concord, 

A  fair  and  fresh  breeze  soon  brought  us  in  sight 
of  the  bold  and  lofty  rocks  which  wall  the  circular 
shores  of  Terceira — furnishing  its  quiet  inhabitants  a 
defence,  which  may  excuse  in  them  their  want  of 
that  chivalrous  valor  which  exposure  and  danger  in- 
spire. Beneath  the  steep  battlements  which  nature 
has  reared  along  the  breaker-beaten  coast  of  this 
island,  a  thousand  hostile  fleets  might  exhaust  their 
malice  in  vain ;  the  iron  storm  of  their  batteries 
would  make  as  little  impression  as  the  bubbles  of  a 
muttering  wave.  Upon  the  south  side,  this  natural 
wall  bends  inward,  affording  a  small  harbor,  of  deej) 
bottom  and  unsafe  anchorage.  At  the  foot  of  a 
mountain,  w^hich  here  freshly  descends  to  the  bright 
water,  stands  the  neat  city  of  Angra,  the  capital  of 
the  island. 

We  swung  around  into  this  inlet  and  let  go  our 
anchor,  to  the  pleasurable  sm-prise  of  many,  who  from 
their  turrets  and  balconies  were  scanning  our  flao;, 
and  recognizing  in  it  a  long-absent  friend.  The  blue 
and  white  banner,  which  floated  from  a  small  armed 
ship,  and  the  two  fortifications  which  defend  the 
harbor,  told  us  that  Donna  Maria  was  the  infant 
queen  of  this  romantic  isle. 

The  necessities  of  an  impatient  dinner  over,  we 
hastened  to  the  shore,  where  we  met  our  quasi  Consul, 


CAPITAL   CITT   OF    ANGEA.  37 


wlio  politely  oflei-ed  us  his  attentions  in  any  form  tliat 
mis'lit  be  most  auTceable.  As  we  had  but  a  few 
hours  to  stay,  we  declined  the  hospitalities  of  his 
hearth,  preferring  a  ramble  through  the  principal 
streets,  and  a  hasty  look  at  the  strange  aspect  every 
thing  wore.  Under  his  guidance  we  passed  from 
street  to  sti-eet,  meeting  everywhere  new-fledged 
soldiers  and  little  groups  of  citizens,  who  had  been 
brought  together  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  our 
ship. 

The  bells  were  chiming  for  vespers,  and  we  turned 
into  the  Cathedral — a  building  of  huge  dimensions, 
in  the  Gothic  style.  We  found  about  forty  priests,  or 
friars,  and  as  many  boys,  who  had  the  gift  of  music 
in  them,  sustaining  the  chant  and  occasionally  break- 
ing out  with  great  animation  in  the  chorus.  When  I 
inquired  of  our  polite  guide  for  the  audience — the 
worshipping  multitude  that  might  here  be  accom- 
modated— he  jjointed  to  one  poor  publican  kneeling 
in  the  centre  of  the  vast  area,  and  observed,  the 
people  here  do  not  attend  vespers. 

What  a  worship,  I  was  about  to  exclaim,  is  this  ! — 
whether  paid  to  God,  or  saint,  or  sinner.  Why,  the 
little  brook,  as  it  murmurs~its  vesper  hymn  in  the  ear 
of  nature,  has  at  least  a  lonely  pilgrim  or  bird  on  its 
brink,  to  listen  to  its  harmony,  and  catch  the  spirit  of 
its  homage.  But  here  is  a  magnificent  temple  with 
its  sweeping  aisles,  perfumed  altars,  white-robed 
priests,  and  melodious  choir,  all  consecrated  to  the 


38  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


worsliip  of  the  Most  High  and  the  sacred  edification 
of  man — and  only  one  poor  penitent,  of  the  thousands 
whose  sins  or  gratitude  should  bring  them  here,  is 
seen  to  come  and  kneel.  Surely  there  must  be  "  rot- 
tenness in  Denmark." 

Breaking  from  this  partial  reverie,  I  joined  our 
company  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  aisle,  where  our 
guide  was  leading  the  way  to  some  recess,  or  shriue, 
with  an  air  of  peculiar  awe^t  was  the  sanctum 
sanctorum  of  the  place,  and  we  paused  upon  its  hal- 
lowed threshold.  Three  large  wax  candles  were 
burning  within,  and  before  these  a  venerable  priest 
was  walking,  as  one  that  meditates  alone.  The 
solitary  prelate  instantly  invited  us  in,  and  seemed  to 
excuse  our  not  crossing  ourselves  to  the  sacred  pic- 
tures which  hung  upon  the  walls.  This  consecrated 
cloister  was  distinguished  for  the  sober  richness  of  its 
furniture,  its  silent  solemnity,  and  the  multiplicity  of 
images,  which  cast  upon  us  ii'om  every  quarter  their 
looks  of  penitence  and  celestial  hope. 

Around  the  embroidered  curtain,  which  inclosed 
the  Host,  bloomed  several  vases  of  fresh  flowers. 
The  priest  from  one  of  them,  as  we  retired,  plucked  a 
rich  carnation  and  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Head  with  the  most 
graceful  inclination  that  I  ever  saw  in  a  man  of  his 
years.  There  was  something  in  the  manner  of  his 
presenting  this  beautiful  flower,  which  made  one  for 
the  moment  forget  that  we  can  ever  grow  old.  The 
rose  was  a  delicate  compliment,  and  will  be  cherished 


GLAIiTCES   AT   THE   CONVENT.  39 


by  her  to  wliom  it  was  given,  long  after  tlie  perfume 
has  passed  from  its  withered  leaf,  and  long  after  the 
thin  pale  hand  which  tendered  it  shall  have  forgotten 
its  kindly  office. 

From  the  Cathedi'al  we  wandered  into  a  street, 
leading  past  a  favorite  convent,  beneath  the  high 
walls  of  which,  scarcely  a  blade  of  grass  was  seen  to 
shoot.  On  inquiring  the  cause  of  the  sterile  and 
ti-odden  aspect  of  the  ground,  we  were  informed  that 
the  young  men  of  the  city  were  in  the  habit  of  fre- 
quenting that  place,  hoping  to  catch  an  answering 
glance,  or  word,  from  the  truant  nuns  within.  The 
windows  had  balconies,  in  which  were  placed  various 
pots  of  flowers,  the  care  of  which  afforded  the  veiled 
inmates  a  pretext  for  visiting  the  light ;  but  while 
hovering  over  their  cherished  plants,  their  eyes  it 
seems  are  wont  to  meet  those  of  some  romantic 
Eomeo  below, — and  then  a  devoted  word  goes  up, 
and  another,  with  some  sweet  flower,  comes  down ; 
and  now  and  then,  the  gentle  Juliet  comes  down 
herself^ — not  to  descend  into  a  tomb,  but  to  make  a 
heart  happy,  that  has  turned  away  from  the  gay 
saloon  to  the  pensive  convent. 

I  like  these  romantic  touches  in  human  life  ;  they 
are  green  spots  in  a  desert.  I  know  not  what  His 
Holiness  the  Pope  or  the  Lady  Abbess  might  say  to 
such  a  charmed  elopement  of  one  of  their  nuns,  but 
sure  I  am  that  if  I  am  ever  concerned  in  what  is 
coarsely  termed  a  run-away  match,  the  object  of  my 


40  SHIP    AND   SnOKE. 


pious  plunder  sliall  be  some  brilliant  being,  suffering 
an  invohmtary  confinement  in  one  of  these  living 
graves.  Kor  am  I  without  an  encouraging  example  : 
a  captain  in  the  British  navy  recently  ran  away  with 
one  from  a  convent  in  Teneriffe,  and  found  in  her  all 

"  Which  Eve  has  left  her  daughters  since  her  fall." 

The  next  object  that  arrested  our  stej^s  was  an 
extensive  and  neatly  arranged  garden,  connected 
with  an  herb-growing  monastery,  and  which,  as  our 
conductor  informed  us,  was  rather  a  flattering  speci- 
men of  the  horticultui'e  of  the  island.  In  the  midst 
of  plats,  upon  whose  varied  bosom  the  rose  and 
geranium  were  intertwined,  appeared  most  of  the 
tropical  fruits  and  plants  in  vigorous  growth.  To 
one  who  has  been  many  days  at  sea,  living  on  hard 
bread  and  salt  meat,  the  slightest  vegetable,  even  a 
head  of  lettuce,  appears  a  tempting  luxury ;  but  an 
inaccessible  orange  or  banana  is  like  the  stream  which 
mocked  the  parched  lips  of  poor  Tantalus.  But  we 
left  this  ample  garden,  so  full  of  vegetable  life,  with 
all  its  budding  sweets  untouched  and  untasted ;  not 
a  flower  was  plucked,  or  a  leaf  disturbed  in  its  green 
quietude.  Though  sorely  tempted,  we  kept  this  once 
the  eighth  commandment. 

After  strolling  through  several  more  of  the  streets, 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  public  square,  upon  rather  a 
conflned  scale,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  some- 
what singular  monument.     It  was  constructed  of  a 


BUILDINGS    AND    STREETS.  41 


species  of  calcareous  stone,  of  dark  line  and  compact 
texture,  and  Consisted  of  an  elevated  quadrangular 
pedestal,  upon  which  rose  a  cylindrical  column,  bear- 
ing a  capital  with  a  deface,  which  no  one  could  trace 
to  any  definite  order  of  architectm-e,  or  particular 
school  of  sculpture.  The  whole  betrayed  the  wasting 
effects  of  time,  though  the  outline  had  been  pre- 
served quite  entire. 

One  of  our  company,  having  a  great  fondness  for 
antiquities,  immediately  commenced  transcribing  a 
half  obliterated  inscrij^tion  upon  its  base  ;  others  des- 
canted on  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  its  proportions ; 
the  rest  of  us  wandered  back  in  thought,  through  the 
depth  of  centuries,  to  the  virtues  of  those  whose 
achievements  were  here  rendered  immortal.  Our 
conductor,  who  had  been  detained  by  some  company 
w^e  had  met  on  the  way,  now  joined  us ;  and  ob- 
serving the  rapt  air  in  which  each  stood,  and  tlie 
antiquary  with  his  busy  pencil,  remarked  that  the 
time-worn  object  of  our  contemplative  wonder  was  a 
pillory  ! 

Romance,  a  love  of  the  marvelous,  self-complacency, 
all  died  within  us,  as  we  blushingly  turned  away 
from  this  only  monument  which  we  met  with  in 
Angra.  Our  mortified  vanity,  however,  was  soon 
exhilaratingly  revived,  by  a  glass  of  native  wine, 
and  a  cup  of  excellent  cofiee,  at  the  house  of  our 
Consul. 

The  streets  of  Angra,  though  nan'ow,  are  uncom- 


42  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


monly  clean  for  a  Portuguese  city.  The  houses  are 
generally  of  two  stories,  and  have  many  of  them 
balconies,  screened  by  vines  and  trellis-work,  which, 
without  excluding  the  air,  afford  a  green  protection 
to  the  black-eyed  beauty  as  she  catches  a  glimpse  of 
the  moving  crowd  below.  The  aj^parel  of  the  poorer 
classes  is  clean,  but  it  is  obvious  that  the  needle  has 
in  many  cases  been  put  in  extensive  requisition  to 
repair  the  rents  of  time.  The  costume  of  the  better- 
conditioned  circles,  though  not  glaringly  gaudy,  is 
rather  showy  than  rich. 

There  is  very  little  about  the  place  indicative  of 
wealth  or  earnest  enterprise.  It  must  have  paused 
for  many  years  in  the  march  of  improvement.  This 
is  owing  to  the  unsettled  state  of  its  political  relations, 
its  frequent  revolutions,  the  rapacity  and  poverty  of 
its  successive  masters.  Even  the  bells  of  some  of  the 
churches  have  been  taken  down  and  coined.  There 
are  men,  who,  if  they  could  get  there,  would  pick  out 
and  peddle  the  gems  which  glow  in  the  pavements  of 
heaven. 

The  wines  of  this  island  are  inferior  to  those  of  the 
Canaries,  and  the  birds  less  musical ;  but  the  lands 
are  abundantly  productive  of  grain,  pasturage,  and 
fruits.  Little  attention,  however,  is  paid  to  flocks  and 
herds,  unless  the  treatment  which  the  hog  receives  be 
considered  an  exception.  This  coarse  animal,  which 
of  late  has  become  among  us  little  more  than  a  strong 
political  metaphor,  is  here  remarkable  for  his  anti- 


THE   GALE   AND   THE   WRECK.  43 

Jew  characteristics  ;  he  is  not  only  obnoxious  to  this 
class  of  people,  from  his  very  natiu'e,  but  this  an- 
tipathy is  enhanced  by  the  instrumentality  of  the 
razor,  applied,  it  is  true,  not  to  his  face — only  his 
back.  This  is  done,  not  out  of  disrespect  to  those  who 
have  repudiated  this  humble  quadruped,  but  for  the 
sake  of  giving  him  a  greater  breadth  of  beam. 
"Whether  this  is  really  the  eifect,  or  a  mere  conceit,  I 
did  not  particularly  inquire.  I  ask  pardon  for  intro- 
ducing here  this  unseemly  emblem  of  the  spirit  of 
our  party  devotedness  ;  tliough  Byron,  in  his  masterly 
letter  to  Bowles,  contends,  that  if  pure,  unsophisti- 
cated natm'e  be  the  highest  theme  of  the  muse,  then 
the  most  poetical  object  in  the  world  must  be — "  a 
hog  in  a  high  wind." 

At  a  little  before  sunset,  we  returned  on  board,  for 
the  sky  had  already  begun  to  assume  an  ominous 
change,  when  orders  were  immediately  given  to  get 
underway.  We  had  no  sooner  weighed  anchor — 
leaving  our  fluke  among  the  ragged  rocks  of  its  bed 
— and  made  sail,  than  night  set  in  with  an  aspect  of 
terrific  gloom.  The  wind,  which  had  been  blowing 
fi'esh  dm'ing  the  afternoon,  now  came  with  the  vio- 
lence of  a  gale  ; — the  clouds  which  had  himg  around 
us  at  twilight,  in  huge  black  masses,  suddenly  heaved 
their  distended  forms  over  the  heavens  and  increased 
in  density  and  darkness,  till  they  shut  out  its  last 
sti-uggling  ray.  Of  the  sea,  which  began  to  speak  to 
us  in  the  shock  and  ten-or  of  its  resistless  motion. 


44  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


notliing  was  seen  but  the  fitful  light,  which  occa- 
sionally flashed  from  the  crest  of  a  plunging  wave. 

In  this  world  of  wild  convulsion  and  impenetrable 
night,  through  which  the  sheeted  dead  and  a  shaking 
earthquake  might  have  passed  imperceived,  om-  ship 
sustained  herself  with  singular  steadiness  and  resolu- 
tion. With  her  magnificent  wings  furled,  and  he»' 
loftier  spars  taken  dowTi,  she  resembled  the  battling 
hero,  remaining  firm,  with  his  plume  and  helmet 
swept  away,  and  his  sword  broken  at  the  hilt.  At 
midnight  the  gale  began  to  subside,  and  at  break  o? 
day  there  was  little  evidence  left  of  its  fearful  energy, 
except  the  heavy  sea  it  had  raised,  anrl  the  dis 
mantled  condition  of  our  noble  ship.  ^ 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  a  sad  memorial  of  ita 
violence  drove  past  us  in  the  shape  of  a  wreck.  It 
was  pursued  by  huge  waves,  that  broke  over  it  with 
an  exulting  fierceness  and  savage  glee.  Her  masta 
had  been  swept  by  the  board, — her  helm  carried 
away, — her  gunwale  broken  down, — not  .a  living 
being  remained,  or  even  a  breathless  corse,  to  tell  who 
there  wept,  prayed,  and  despaired  !  This  is  only  a 
type  of  that  universal  wreck  that  is  coming  on  :  for 

This  mighty  globe,  with  all  its  stretching  sail 
And  streamers  set,  is  speeding  wildly  fast 

To  that  dim  coast,  where  thunder,  cloud,  and  gale 
Will  rend  the  shrouds,  lay  low  the  lofty  mast, 

And  bear  her  down,  'mid  night  and  howling  wave, 

With  wail  and  shriek,  to  her  engulfing  grave. 


THE   LAST   WRECK.  4:5 


A  u  Pharos  then  will  cast  its  cheering  ray 
To  show  the  mariner  the  welcome  shore ; 

No  friendly  star  come  forth,  as  dying  day 
Darkens  above  the  breakers'  ceaseless  roar  ; 

No  minute-gun  through  calcined  cliff  or  steep, 

Startle  the  wrecker  from  his  savage  sleep. 

Monarchs  will  seize  the  helm  to  stay  its  roll, 
Then  fall  upon  their  trembling  knees  in  prayer, 

Hoar  voyagers  scan  again  the  chart's  dim  scroll. 
And  drop  its  idle  page  in  mute  despair; 

While  pallid  myriads,  on  the  plunging  deck, 

Grapple  with  death,  in  that  tremendous  wreck. 

And  down  'twill  sink  amid  the  tide  of  time. 
And  leave  no  relics  on  the  closing  wave. 

Except  the  records  of  its  grief  and  crime  : 
The  gentle  heaven  will  weep  above  its  grave. 

And  universal  nature  softly  rear 

A  dewy  urn  to  this  departed  sphere. 


46  SHIP    AND    SHOllE. 


CHAPTER   III. 

It  is  a  sweet  and  sunny  isle,  just  swelling 

From  out  the  ocean  of  a  rosy  dream — 
Crowned  with  ambrosial  bowers,  where  love  is  telling, 

In  modest  violets,  its  tender  theme, — 
A  theme  too  delicately  sensitive  for  words, 
But  may  be  conned  in  flowers,  and  sung  by  birds. 

MADEIRA FIRST    APPEARANCE GLORIES     OF     SUNSET RIDE     INTO     THE 

INTERIOR — PONIES  AND  BURROQUEROS DEEP  RAVINES PEASANTRY 

A    MADEIRAN  BEAUTY AN  ENGLISH  LADY DINNER  AND  DANCING. 

As  the  white  clouds,  which  hung  this  morning  like 
a  widely  distended  veil  over  our  weather-bow,  were 
occasionally  ruffled  by  the  breeze,  we  caught  mo- 
mentary glimpses  of  the  lofty  and  varied  outline  of 
the  heights  of  Madeira.  Here  a  steep  cliff  presented 
its  wild  features,  there  the  green  side  of  some  hill 
smiled  forth,  while  upon  gentler  elevations  appeared 
the  white  dwellings  of  the  inhabitants,  in  beautiful 
contrast  w^ith  the  deep  verdure  in  which  they  were 
embowered.  Upon  the  beach  foamed  the  successive 
wave,  or  cast  its  white  crest  high  up  the  jutting  rock. 
The  whole  appeared  the  work  of  enchantment — a 
mere  illusion  sent  to  please  and  mock  the  senses ;  and 
this  impression  was  almost  confirmed,  as  the  spread- 
ing folds  of  the  floating  clouds  again  snatched  every 
vestige  of  the  entire  scene  from  our  fixed  eyes. 


ISLE   OF  MADEIRA.  47 


Had  death  come  upon  me  at  that  moment,  I  should 
have  departed  with  a  full  belief  in  the  mystery  and 
power,  which  fancy  or  superstition  has  ascribed  to 
those  fairy  agents,  who  dwell  in  subtle  essence,  and 
work  their  marvels  upon  the  palpitating  experience 
of  man.  But  a  springing  breeze  unveiled  again  the 
hidden  object  of  our  curiosity,  and  brought  us  at 
length  so  near  it,  that  it  appeared  before  us  in  all  its 
unrivalled  wilduess  and  beauty.  Could  I  see  but  one 
island,  in  its  progressive  development  from  the  ob- 
scurity of  cloud,  and  sky,  and  wave — it  should  be 
Madeira.  There  is  no  isle,  even  under  the  glittering- 
skies  of  the  West  Indies,  that  has  such  an  enchanting 
effect  as  this  ;  none  that  seems  so  completely  a  thing 
of  light,  laughter,  and  beauty. 

As  we  floated  into  its  open  roadstead,  we  passed 
an  English  frigate  lying  at  anchor,  which  saluted  us 
with  a  "  Hail  Columbia  ;"  a  compliment  which  our 
band  retm-ned  with  a  badly  played  "  God  save  the 
King."  Our  anchor  was  now  let  go,  our  sails  clewed 
down,  and  a  boat  lowered  for  the  shore.  I  remained 
on  board,  to  witness  the  effect  of  the  setting  sun  upon 
the  scene  before  us.  Twilight  here  is  of  short  dm-a- 
tion,  but  atones  for  its  brevity  by  its  richness. 

The  city  of  Fimchal,  before  which  we  were  riding 
at  anchor,  stands  against  a  green  amphitheatre  of 
hills,  which  rapidly  ascend  to  an  elevation  of  three 
thousand  feet.  These  steeps  are  crowned  with  pin- 
nacles, which  shoot  up  wild  and  high,  and  which  are 


48  SHIP    AKD    SliOEE. 


burning  with  living  splendor,  after  the  advancing 
twilight  has  cast  its  j^urple  shadows  over  the  hushed 
dwellings  beneath.  The  contrast  of  these  flaming 
turrets,  with  the  dim  and  dark  aspect  of  that  which 
slumbers  in  sunless  depths  below,  produces  an  effect 
which  can  never  be  described,  and  which  would  only 
be  feebly  mimicked,  by  setting  the  towering  bastions 
of  some  hugely-walled  city  in  flames,  while  silence 
and  night  reigned  through  its  untrodden  streets.  How 
triumphant  is  nature,  both  in  her  magnificent  and 
minor  forms,  over  the  proud  pretensions  of  man  !  The 
clifi"  which  sunset  kindles,  and  the  violet  which  the 
dew-drop  gilds,  alike  baffle  his  art  and  mock  his  vanity. 
In  the  morning  we  took  a  boat  for  the  shore,  for 
the  purpose  of  riding  into  the  interior  of  the  island. 
We  were  met  at  the  landing  by  Mr.  Perrigal,  our 
Yice-Consul,  who  had  politely  provided  Mrs.  Read 
with  a  palankeen,  in  which  she  was  carried  by  two 
broad-shouldered  men  to  the  Consular  mansion.  As 
for  the  rest  of  us,  the  question  was  not,  how  we  should 
obtain  the  means  of  conveyance,  but  how  we  should 
manage  to  mount  one  saddle,  instead  of  two  or  three ; 
for  we  were  surrounded  by  thirty  or  forty  Burroque- 
ros,  leading  their  donkies  into  our  very  faces,  and 
vociferating  "This  one,  this  one,  this  one!"  with  an 
earnestness  and  impatience  which  rendered  all  choice 
impossible.  Indeed  we  were  glad  to  jump  upon  any 
thing  to  escape  from  such  a  snarl  of  animals,  and 
importunate  diivers. 


PONIES   AND   BTJEKOQUEKOS.  49 


In  a  moment  we  were  mounted,  and  rushing 
through  the  city,  witli  a  Burroquero  holding  on  with 
one  hand  to  the  tail  of  his  ponj,  and  with  the  other 
belaboring  his  limbs  with  a  long  stiff  wand.  "W"e 
brought  up  at  the  door  of  the  Consul,  where  we  halted 
for  a  few  minutes,  till  Mrs.  Read  could  mount  her 
pony,  and  then  started  off,  full  gallop,  for  the  inte- 
rior. The  clatter  of  hoofs  which  we  left  behind, 
brouglit  to  the  window  many  an  eye,  whose  look 
came  too  late.  Echo  and  wonder  only  remained, 
with  dust,  distance,  and  laughter.  John  Gilpin's 
race  with  all  its  involuntary  speed  was  gravity,  com- 
j)ared  with  our  ludicrous  appearance  :  it  was  enough 
to  shake  the  powder  from  the  wig  of  a  Chief- Justice. 
I  found  myself  bestriding  a  pony  about  as  large  as 
one  of  farmer  Darby's  black  sheep,  but  as  sure  of 
foot  as  any  fox  that  ever  jumped ;  yet  in  the  gallop, 
his  fore  and  hind  quarters  went  up  in  such  quick 
alternations,  that  the  most  rapid  vibrations  of  the 
body  were  necessary  to  preserve  the  even  balance, 
and  keep  one  from  falling  over  the  stem  or  stern  of 
this  tossing  craft.  I  thought,  after  all,  the  animal  was 
more  to  be  jDitied  than  his  rider  ;  and  when  we  had 
been  on  the  tilt  about  two  hours,  and  were  come  to 
the  foot  of  another  long  and  steep  ascent,  I  dis- 
mounted, to  the  no  small  amusement  of  the  driver, 
who,  it  would  seem,  much  better  understood  the 
ability  of  the  little  hardy  fellow,  than  myself. 

At  the  top  of  this  arduous  ascent,  we  found  our- 

3 


50  SHIP    AND   SHORE. 


selves  suddenly  recoiling  from  tlie  crumbling  verge 
of  a  ravine,  that  dropped  down  in  nearly  a  perpen- 
dicular descent  two  thousand  feet.  As  we  discovered 
no  road  leading  away  from  this  perilous  position, 
except  that  by  which  we  had  come,  we  concluded,  of 
course,  that  this  was  the  ne  ^lus  nltra  of  our  ride. 
But  crack  w^ent  the  huge  sticks  of  the  drivers  against 
our  donkeys,  and  away  they  sprang  up  an  extremely 
narrow  ledge  of  rocks,  that  beetled  out  over  this 
frightful  abyss. 

Tliere  was  no  stojDping  them,  for  a  concussion  of 
the  animals  against  each  other  would  have  precipi- 
tated the  whole  of  us  to  the  bottom.  Go  on  we  must, 
but  whether  for  good  or  ill,  for  gratification  or  broken 
bones,  we  could  not  tell.  Nothing  but  the  instinct  of 
our  steeds  saved  us ;  they  balanced  along  with  well- 
poised  frame,  when  their  riders  would  have  lost  their 
footing,  and  with  a  spinning  brain  would  have  reeled 
toppling  down. 

Another  hour  of  this  hair-breadth  ridinsr  brouo-lit 
us  to  the  Curral — the  main  object  of  our  adventure. 
This  is  a  little  fertile  valley  sunk  into  the  heart  of  the 
island,  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  natural  rock  rising 
to  a  height  of  twenty-five  hundred  feet.  Upon  the 
verge  of  this  wall  we  now  stood ;  but  every  object 
below  was  buried  beneath  masses  of  cloud  :  nothing: 
could  be  seen ;  nothing  heard,  except  the  tones  of  a 
church-bell,  as  they  struggled  up  through  this  heavy 
sea  of  vapor.     The  wild  clifis  and  pinnacles,  which 


VALLEY   OF   THE   CLTREAL.  51 


still  towered  far  above  us,  shone  conspicuously  in  the 
light,  and  their  sunny  aspect  served  to  deepen  the 
gloom  which  rested  upon  the  unpierced  depths  below. 
There  was  light,  and  beauty,  and  resplendent  gran- 
deur above  ;  but  below,  brooded  a  night,  upon  which 
the  quick  rays  of  the  sun  fell  at  once  quenched  and 
powerless. 

After  partaking  of  a  very  welcome  lunch,  and  some 
excellent  wine,  which  Mr.  Perrigal  had  hospitably 
provided  for  the  occasion,  we  started  on  our  return, 
fully  determined,  if  we  should  get  back  without  any 
serious  accident,  to  make  another  exciu'sion  to  this 
inland  wonder.  I  never  left  a  place  with  greater 
reluctance,  or  a  deeper  conviction  of  the  jDower  of 
man's  curiosity. 

On  our  return,  we  frequently  overtook,  as  we  had 
encountered  in  coming  out,  many  of  the  peasantry, 
bearing  their  burdens  of  fuel  to  market.  This  essen- 
tial article  consists  here,  principally  of  the  fern,  and 
the  roots  of  the  broom.  It  is  borne  from  the  interior 
upon  the  head ;  we  met  women  with  large  bundles 
of  it  in  this  position.  This  indeed  is  the  only  mode 
in  which  it  can  be  transported.  The  paths  in  many 
places  are  notched  into  the  steep  face  of  a  mountain, 
and  are  so  extremely  narrow,  as  to  afford  a  passage 
for  little  more  than  the  person  of  the  individual.  The 
burden  is  therefore  done  up  like  a  sheaf,  and  placed 
on  the  head  in  a  line  with  the  path.  With  one  hand, 
the  patient  bearer  steadies  her  load,  and  with  the 


SHIP  AND  snoRE. 


other,  by  the  help  of  a  pointed  cane,  she  steadies  her- 
self. "When  two  encounter  each  other  with  their 
loads,  one  of  the  parties  looks  out  for  a  jutting  cliff, 
or  a  deeper  nitch,  where  she  stands  till  the  other  has 
passed.  It  was  only  in  this  mode  that  we  were  able 
to  get  along  with  our  ponies.  In  this  form  the  city 
of  Funchal  is  mainly  supplied  with  fuel.  Fortunately 
the  climate  is  habitually  so  very  mild,  that  little  is 
required,  except  for  culinary  purposes. 

I  never  had  such  a  feeling  of  sinking  sadness,  as 
when  I  saw  these  females  with  these  enormous  bun- 
dles on  their  heads.  There  was  something  in  their 
condition  so  strangely  at  variance  with  the  delicacy 
and  tenderness  which  are  usually  the  pride  and  priv- 
ilege of  their  sex  :  when  I  observed,  too,  the  unmur- 
muring patience  and  cheerful  resolution  with  which 
they  perform  the  incredible  task,  I  could  have  stopped 
and  wept.  Had  I  possessed  a  key  to  the  mines  of 
Peru,  I  could  have  cast  it  at  their  feet.  They  carry 
these  wearisome  loads,  from  many  miles  in  the  inte- 
rior, through  the  most  rough  and  perilous  passes,  to 
the  city,  where  they  are  obliged  to  part  with  them 
for  a  few  farthings,  and  then  start  at  night-fall,  faint, 
and  perhaps  unattended,  for  their  cabin  in  the  moun- 
tains. 

The  self-adapting  disposition  of  woman,  the  uncom- 
plaining trust  with  which  she  submits  to  reverses  of 
fortune,  and  the  hope  and  cheerfulness  with  which 
she  strives  to  inspire  others,  while  her  own  heart  may 


THE  DINKEE  AND   DAXCE.  63 

be  desolate,  are  high  and  affecting  attributes  which 
belong  only  to  her.  She  is  essentially  the  same  in  the 
cottage  and  palace,  at  the  couch  of  pain  and  the  hall 
of  festivity,  in  all  that  constitutes  her  highest  excel- 
lence and  man's  chief  happiness. 

But  I  am  wandering  from  the  thread — not  of  my 
discourse,  but  of  om*  return  from  the  Curral.  We 
arrived  at  the  Consul's  quite  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  sat  down  to  a  sumptuously  furnished  table,  where 
we  met  several  agreeable  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
island.  The  dinner  passed  off  with  many  good  feel- 
ings, and  amiable  sentiments  lit  up  with  many  kin- 
dling recollections  of  home.  I  saw,  neither  on  this 
occasion,  nor  on  any  other  while  in  the  island,  ex- 
cessive drinking,  even  of  the  pure  and  harmless 
juice  of  the  grape.  There  was  no  ardent  spirits  of 
any  kind  upon  the  table,  nor  any  lurking  upon 
the  sideboard,  to  tempt  the  lips  of  the  unwary 
guest. 

When  the  table  broke  up,  we  found  in  the  ample 
mansion  every  facility  for  disposing  of  om'selves,  as 
our  different  tastes  and  dispositions  suggested.  Some 
took  the  cigar,  and  talked  of  politics ;  some  amused 
themselves  in  the  garden,  among  its  fruits  and  flow- 
ers ;  and  others,  like  myself,  took  a  siesta — that 
dreamy  quietude  in  which  weariness  forgets  its  ex- 
haustion, and  the  spirits  rally  for  fresh  action.  I  al- 
ways had  a  great  respect  for  sleep,  and  a  deep  love 
of  dreams.     The  first  is  the  most  innocent  occupation 


64  SHIP   AJ^D  SHORE. 


in  which  we  engage ;  the  last,  the  most  sweet  and 
beautifuL 

The  evening  presented  us  with  a  brilliant  circle  of 
ladies.  The  most  striking  featm'e  in  a  Madeiran 
beauty  is  her  eyes  :  these  are  usually  full,  black,  and 
jSoating ;  and  shaded  with  a  long,  silken  lash,  from 
beneath  which  the  kindling  ray  flies  with  an  electric- 
al efiect.  You  would  hardly  think  that  an  eye,  which 
verges  so  close  upon  the  melancholy  in  its  general  ex- 
pression, and  around  which  a  living  languor  seems  to 
sleep,  could  contain  such  vivifying  power.  The  out- 
line of  her  face,  perhaps,  approaches  the  circle  too 
closely  for  depth  of  sentiment,  but  for  an  exhibition 
of  cheerfulness,  it  could  hardly  be  improved. 

The  contour  of  her  person  has  also  too  much  ful- 
ness to  appear  in  perfect  consonance  with  the  most 
pliant  and  airy  motion  ;  but  this  is  gently  relieved  by 
a  foot  that  needs  no  compression  to  give  her  carriage 
a  light  and  airy  cast.  Her  complexion  is  a  shade 
darker  than  the  brunettes  of  our  clime,  yet  equally 
transparent :  her  locks  are  long,  and  black  as  the  ra- 
ven's wing;  and  when  she  speaks,  it  is  not  simply 
with  her  lips, — her  whole  countenance  is  lighted  up 
and  eloquent. 

Among    the    English    ladies,   there  was   a   Miss 

E s,  whose  winning  sweetness  of  conversation 

and  demeanor  came  upon  one  like  a  soft,  mysterious 
charm.  It  was  merely  nature  speaking  and  acting 
without  affectation  and  without  disguise.     There  was 


AN   ENGLISH    LADY.  55 


no  effort,  no  ambition,  and  not  the  slightest  indication 
that  she  was  even  aware  of  the  interest  she  inspired. 
Indeed,  there  was  a  delicacy  and  half-retiring  diffi- 
dence about  her,  that  would  have  shrunk  from  an 
idea  of  the  attraction  which  encircled  her.  The  pre- 
tensions of  dress  and  the  show  of  studied  airs  utterly 
faded  under  her  manner.  Her  thoughts  and  lan- 
guage seemed  to  come  forth  un wrought  and  sponta- 
neous from  their  pure  fount,  yet  they  beamed  with 
beauty  and  native  intelligence.  I  never  met  with 
but  one  lady  before,  in  whom  nature  appeared  so  un- 
mingled  and    sweetly  triumphant.      That  lady  was 

Mrs.  G.,  of  W ,  whom  I  shall  never  cease  to 

remember,  till  all  that  is  amiable  and  excellent  in 
woman  has  ceased  to  affect  me. 

The  evening  passed  off"  in  music,  scattered  conver- 
sation, and  dancing.  As  for  the  first,  I  was  a  de- 
lighted listener  ;  the  more  so,  because  there  was  one 
voice  breathing  most  melodiously  there,  that  had 
come  with  us  over  the  wide  water;  and  as  for  the 
last — I  was  a  mere  looker  on,  though  in  no  surly,  cen- 
sorious mind.  I  never  could  see  much  sense  or  pleas- 
ure in  grown  people  bowing,  wriggling,  and  skipping 
about  the  floor  to  the  sound  of  a  fiddle-string.  It  may 
pei'haps  become  that  age,  when  we  are  justly  "pleased 
with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw."  But  leave  it,  I 
pray,  to  the  dear  little  girl.s  and  boys,  on  the  Green, 
such  as  I  made  a  ballad  for  in  my  young  days. 


56  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


While  ambling  round  a  cottage  green, 

I  met  a  little  child, 
The  merriest  object  in  the  scene — 

Where  she  was  playing  wild. 

No  bonnet  screened  her  from  the  sun, 
Her  neck  was  white  and  bare — 

Except  around  it  loosely  hung 
The  ringlets  of  her  hair. 

There  was  a  gladness  in  her  air, 

A  laughter  in  her  eye ; 
Her  little  hands  went  here  and  there — 

As  she  was  racing  by. 

Whither  so  fast,  my  little  one  1 

She  made  me  no  reply — 
But  chattering  to  herself — ran  on 

To  catch  the  butterfly. 

The  fluttering  beauty  soon  she  caught, 

But  then  it  was  so  bland, 
So  fine  and  delicately  wrought, 

It  perished  in  her  hand. 

So  giddy  youth  for  pleasures  run, 
And  think  they  shall  be  blest. 

But  find  them,  after  all  is  done, 
To  perish  when  possessed. 


THE   TIL   VILLA. 


67 


CHAPTER    IV. 

But  now  methinks  'lis  time  to  change  this  theme, 

To  say  a  word  of  matters  and  of  men, 
For  neither  of  them  are  just  what  they  seem, 

And  never  were  what  they  will  be  again ; 
But  both  are  changing  in  the  wax  or  wane. 
Like  floating  fire  along  a  field  of  grain. 

MADERIA    CONTINUED EXCURSION — VILLA    OF    AN  ENGLISH    BACHELOR 

TRAGICAL    DEATH    OF     GEORGE     CANNING WILD    RAVINE—    SINGULAR 

WATERFALL LADY     OF    THE    MOUNT — SUPERSTITION THE   DYING   MO- 
THER'S   REQUEST — STAR    OF    BETHLEHEM VISIT    TO    THE    CONVENT    OF 

SANTA  CLARA — INTRODUCTION  TO  A  BEAUTIFUL  NUN HEE   INVOLUNTARY 

CONFINEMENT — PERSONAL    ATTRACTIONS — MENTAL   ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

PROPOSED    SCHEME    OF    ESCAPE. 

The  cloudless  heights  of  Madeira  promising  this 
morning  a  fine  day  to  those  who  might  be  disposed 
to  make  an  excm-sion  among  their  wild  scenes,  we 
started,  full  of  glee,  at  a  very  early  hour.  The  ponies 
which  we  had  taken  from  the  multitude  that  were 
clamorously  urged  upon  us,  were  in  high  spirits,  and 
we  started  at  a  speed  that  would  have  left  the  quick- 
est footman  in  our  country  panting  and  puffing  in  the 
distance.  Not  so  with  the  mountain  boy  of  this  isle ; 
for  quick  or  slow,  he  is  ever  singing,  whistling,  and 
cracking  his  whip,  close  at  the  heel  of  his  animal. 

The  first  place  at  which  we  alighted,  and  to  which 

8* 


58  smr  and  shore. 


we  had  been  politely  favored  with  an  nnceremonions 
invitation,  was  the  Til  Yilla.  This  is  the  residence  of 
an  English  gentleman,  situated  at  a  small  distance 
from  the  citj^,  upon  the  sunny  side  of  one  of  those 
hills  which  slope  up  so  gradually  as  to  be  capable  of 
cultivation,  especially  when  thrown  off  into  parapets, 
as  in  the  present  instance.  This  villa  is  quite  in  the 
Italian  style ;  the  grounds  are  laid  off  with  a  strict 
regard  to  beauty  and  effect ;  and  though  the  rigid 
utilitarian  would  find  but  little  here  to  applaud,  yet 
the  lover  of  flowers,  of  the  green  shade,  and  the 
sparkling  stir  of  waters,  might  easily  be  in  a  rapture. 
In  the  centre  of  the  garden  towers  a  majestic  Til,  one 
of  the  indigenous  evergreen  forest-trees  of  the  island, 
ingens  arhos,  faciemque,  similima  lauro.  This  tree 
has  given  name  to  the  place,  though  its  right  so  to  do 
might  well  be  questioned  by  a  venerable  chestnut 
standing  near,  and  measuring,  with  its  neighbor, 
over  thirty  feet  in  circumference. 

This  villa  derives  a  melancholy  interest  as  having 
been  the  scene  of  the  tragical  death  of  George  Can- 
ning, a  captain  in  the  British  Navy,  and  eldest  son 
of  the  late  distinguished  Premier  of  that  name.  He 
had  come  to  this  villa  with  a  party  of  gentlemen  to 
dine, — had  been  playing  at  racket,  and  being  some- 
what exhausted,  had  thrown  himself,  for  a  moment's 
repose,  upon  the  sofa,  on  which  I  am  now  sitting  to 
sketch  this  note.  But  being  heated,  he  soon  left  the 
apartment,  and  went,  unperceived  by  any  one,  to 


GEOEGE   CANNING.  59 


the  pool,  a  place  convenient  in  many  respects  for 
bathing. 

When  the  table  was  announced,  the  host  looked 
around  for  the  guest,  in  honor  of  whom  the  enter- 
tainment was  intended,  but  he  was  not  in  his  place. 
Inquiry  was  raised,  a  search  commenced,  when,  com- 
ing to  the  pool,  they  discovered  the  pale  form — but 
the  noble  spirit  —  of  Canning  had  fled  forever! 
Tears  and  lamentations,  and  the  kindly  efforts  of 
affectionate  grief,  were  unavailing.  The  hall  of  fes- 
tivity was  wrapt  in  sorrow,  and  many  a  heart  that 
came  there  gay,  retired  to  weep.  As  died  the  la- 
mented father,  so  perished  here,  still  more  suddenly, 
the  beloved  son.  Their  remains  may  molder  in  the 
untimely  grave,  but  their  virtues  are  stamped  with 
immortality. 

The  Til  Yilla  begins  to  w^ear  the  aspect  of  neglect 
and  decay.  Its  proprietor  is  one  of  those  men  who 
tread  life's  circle  alone.  This  may  do  perhaps  through 
half  the  round,  while  the  heart  can  look  abroad,  but 
then  the  other  half  becomes  a  listless  solitude.  The 
very  objects  in  which  the  solitary  once  delighted,  and 
in  which,  through  his  more  salient  years,  he  placed 
his  pride  and  trust,  will  in  age  lose  their  attraction, 
and  dissust  him  with  their  frivolous  memories.  There 
is  but  one  object  that  can  perpetually  interest  and 
charm  the  heart, — but  one  that  can  fill  the  native 
void  in  its  affections, — but  one  that  can  render  natm-e 
truly  beautiful  and  lovely ;  for  Eden  itself  was  but 


60  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


-"  a  wild, 


And  man,  the  hermit,  sighed,  till  woman  smiled." 

All  tliis  is,  perhaps,  as  much  as  I  can  consistently 
say,  committing  myself  the  mistake  which  I  depre- 
cate in  others.  But  I  cannot  pen  here  a  deeper  truth, 
than  that  an  individual  vitally  consults  his  happiness, 
honor,  and  wealth,  by  an  early  union  with  one,  who 
may  perhaj)s  bring  to  him  no  dower,  except  her 
gentle  virtues  and  affections. 

But  I  forget  our  ponies,  and  the  distant  waterfall, 
to  which  we  were  bound.  From  the  Til  we  wound 
up  the  steep  hills,  which  tower  in  quick  and  long 
succession  above  each  other;  but  before  we  had 
reached  the  object  of  our  curiosity,  a  part  of  our 
company  were  so  well  satisfied  with  a  scene  we  had 
met,  that  like  a  wise  man  looking  out  for  a  wife,  they 
would  go  no  further. 

The  object  which  arrested  them  was  a  section  of 
the  ravine,  which,  in  its  progress  to  the  ocean,  inter- 
sects the  eastern  end  of  Funchal ;  and  which,  from 
the  projecting  height  where  they  were  standing,  ap- 
peared to  divide  the  very  foundation  of  the  island. 
In  its  lowest  depths  sparkled  a  current,  which  any 
miser  would  have  taken  for  a  stream  of  silver.  The 
imagination  of  a  believer  in  a  central  sphere  might 
have  taken  this  mysterious  chasm  as  the  authorized 
I  medium  of  communication  with  his  inner  world  ;  and 

his  fancy  would  have  converted  the  streamlet,  which 


A   UNIQUE    WATER-FAUi.  61 

wanders  tbrougli  it,  into  the  narrow  and  glittering 
outKne  of  its  concealed  ocean. 

Leaving  our  charmed  companions  to  wonder  and 
speculate  at  will,  Lieut.  L.  and  myself  proceeded  for 
the  Waterfall.  After  ascending  several  difficult  ele- 
vations, we  arrived  at  the  foot  of  one,  from  the  top  of 
which,  our  native  guide  informed  us,  the  Fall  might 
be  seen.  But  how  to  get  there,  was  now  the  ques- 
tion ;  for  the  ascent  was  entirely  too  steep  for  our 
ponies,  and  seemed  likely  to  j)rove  too  much  for  our 
strength.  But  the  force  of  curiosity  and  the  pride  of 
conquest  urging  us  on,  we  dismounted,  and  when  an 
upright  posture  became  impracticable,  resorted  to  our 
hands  and  knees  ;  and  by  catching  to  this  stone  and 
that  shrub,  we  at  last  drew  ourselves  up  to  the  top. 
The  cascade  instantly  burst  on  our  view, — a  mag- 
nificent sight — being  a  large  sheet  of  water,  falling- 
unbroken  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 

From  the  position  which  we  occupied,  it  appeared 
to  burst  from  the  solid  side  of  the  mountain ;  there 
was  no  warning  of  its  coming — no  "  note  of  prepara- 
tion"— nothing  that  led  you  to  expect  the  splendid 
exhibition.  It  rushed  upon  you  at  once,  unnotified 
and  unprepared  ;  and  when  you  saw  it  plunge  down 
its  terrific  way,  to  the  then  concealed  gulf,  it  was  as 
if  that  were  the  all  of  its  magnificent  existence. 

It  appeared  a  miracle  in  natui-e — a  river  without  a 
source — a  fall  witliout  an  admonitory  rajjid.  The 
rushing  wave  of  Niagara  prepares  you  for  the  plung- 


62  snip   AND   SHOEE, 


ing  thunder  of  its  miglit.  It  speaks  to  shore  and 
cliff,  and  echoes  the  footsteps  of  its  coming  in  the 
caverned  rock.  You  expect  its  wild  leap,  and  wait 
with  awe  the  crushing  force  of  its  gigantic  strength  ; 
but  this  mysterious  wonder  in  the  fall  of  waters  dashes 
down,  without  having  awakened  an  idea  of  its  ex- 
istence. It  deigns  to  exhibit  only  its  splendid  flight, 
— its  wings  are  spread  and  furled  unseen. 

Before  our  return  we  renewed  one  of  the  recrea- 
tions of  boyhood,  but  upon  rather  an  enlarged  scale. 
"We  disengaged,  successively  a  number  of  rocks, 
weighing  several  tons,  and  saw  them  sweep  their 
resistless  course  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  When 
they  reached  their  shaking  bourne,  they  sent  up  a 
crash  of  echoing  thunder,  that  lingered  long  in  sullen 
reverberation  among  the  hills.  We  hove  off  the  very 
mass  upon  which  we  had  been  incautiously  standing : 
— it  was  dashed  into  a  thousand  fragments  upon  a 
projecting  ledge,  while  each  went  indiscoverably  be- 
neath, in  muttering  wrath.  I  thought  of  the  erring 
spirits,  smitten  from  heaven's  verge  to  Tartarean 
night.  Bidding  the  waterfall  adieu,  we  returned  to 
our  companions,  whom  we  found  lingering  around 
the  very  spot  where  we  had  left  them.  Nature  never 
tires  ;  in  the  magnificent  or  the  minute,  the  severe  or 
subdued,  she  is  an  exhaustless  source  of  interest. 

Our  descent,  which  we  commenced  after  partaking 
of  an  excellent  lunch,  and  a  short  rej^ose,  brought  us 
into  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mount  Church,  to  which 


OTIR  LADY   OF   THE   MOUNT.  63 

we  paid  at  least  the  respect  of  curiosity.  This  edifice 
is  one  of  the  first  objects  which  attract  the  eye  in 
apj)roaching  the  harbor.  It  is  situated  half-way  up 
the  mountain  which  ascends  in  the  rear  of  the  city, 
and  commands  an  elevation  of  two  thousand  feet.  It 
is  surrounded  by  a  fresh  chestnut  grove,  in  which  you 
mount  to  it  by  sixty  granite  steps.  The  style  of  the 
building  is  modern,  and  not  destitute  of  architectural 
pretension. 

As  we  approached  the  altar,  the  priest,  who  was 
directing  our  attention  to  the  points  of  strongest  in- 
terest, and  who  had  hitherto  evinced  an  air  of  utmost 
ease  and  playfulness,  seemed  suddenly  impressed  with 
a  strange  reverence.  I  shall  never  forget  the  incom- 
municable solemnity  which  pervaded  his  counte- 
nance, as  he  slowly  drew  aside  the  rich  curtain  that 
hung  over  the  altar-piece,  and  breathed,  in  a  whisper 
— Nossa  Senhora  do  Monte. 

The  object  of  his  deep  devotion  was  a  little  image 
of  Our  Lady  ;  which  resembled  in  every  respect  a 
child's  doll,  only  its  ornaments  and  attire  were  more 
expensive  than  are  ordinarily  thrown  away  upon  a 
toy.  A  string  of  beads,  in  imitation  of  jewels,  went 
round  its  filleted  head,  and  a  number  of  tinsel  stars 
bespangled  its  little  petticoat.  I  could  hardly  pre- 
serve my  gravity  of  countenance,  while  looking  at 
this  Nossa  Senhora  do  Monte.  Yet  it  seems  she  is 
an  object  of  peculiar  veneration  and  homage  here ; 
on  her  festival  day,  half  the  population  of  the  island 


64  snip   AND   SHORE. 


go  in  solemn  procession  to  kneel  at  her  feet.  Those 
who  would  be  classed  among  the  most  devont,  or 
who  may  have  committed  some  sin  of  deeper  dye,  in 
their  earnestness  to  secure  her  compassionate  grace, 
mount  the  sixty  stone  steps,  which  lead  to  her  sanctu- 
ary, upon  their  naked  knees. 

The  following  circumstance,  which  came  to  me 
from  a  source  too  credible  to  admit  of  doubt,  strikingly 
exhibits  the  spirit  in  which  this  our  sainted  Lady  of 
the  mount  is  regarded.  A  mother,  being  about  to 
depart  this  life,  summoned  her  daughter  to  her  bed- 
side, and  told  her  that  in  her  younger  years  she  had 
committed  one  unconfessed  and  unatoned-for  offence, 
and  that  she  could  not  leave  the  world  in  peace  and 
with  a  consolatory  hope  of  heaven,  till  she  had  given 
her  a  solemn  promise  that  in  expiation  of  this  sin,  she 
would  on  the  birth-day  of  her  eighteenth  year,  at 
twelve  o'clock  at  night,  climb  the  steps  of  this  church 
upon  the  bare  knee.  The  pledge  was  given,  and  in  a 
few  months  from  this  time  will  be  redeemed  with  the 
most  religious  punctuality.  I  subsequently  met  the 
young  lady  who  is  to  perform  this  painful  penance, 
and  might  perhaps  have  quoted  to  her  the  first  Com- 
mandment, had  there  been  any  probability  of  her 
justly  appreciating  its  awful  sanctions. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  wantonly  to  disturb 
the  performance  of  a  vow,  given  even  in  a  spirit  of 
religious  delusion — or  to  trifle  with  a  pledge,  which 
may  have  served  to  console  the  dying.     When  that 


STAR   OF   BETHLEHEM.  65 

fearful  hour  shall  become  a  reality  with  me,  God  only 
knows  the  anxieties  it  may  awaken,  or  what  infinite 
need  this  trembling  spirit  may  be  in  of  the  smallest 
ray,  to  relieve  its  gathering  doubts  and  sorrows.  Yet 
I  would  not  descend  to  the  grave  under  the  light  of  a 
false  trust — under  the  guidance  of  a  star  that  is  to 
vanish  away  in  perpetual  night.  But  there  is  one 
star,  that  will  never  disappoint  the  hope  which  it 
awakens  ;  its  ray  is  never  dimmed,  and  it  knows  no 
going  down  ;  its  cheering  light  streams  on  through 
ages  of  change  and  tempest.  The  earth  may  be 
darkened,  the  foundations  of  nature  broken  up,  and 
the  planets  shaken  from  their  spheres,  but  this  sweet 
star  will  still  smile  from  its  high  and  holy  dwelling. 
'No  wonder  the  Poet  of  truth  and  piety  determined 
to  celebrate 

First  in  night's  diadem, 
The  Star,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem, 

I  must  now  introduce  the  reader  to  an  individual 
who  has  been  for  several  years  an  object  of  deep  ad- 
miration and  sympathy  among  visitors  at  Madeira. 
This  person  is  Donna  Maria  Clementina, — a  nun  in 
the  Convent  of  Santa  Clara.  She  was  immured  in 
this  prison  at  the  early  age  of  ten,  by  the  wicked 
cruelty  of  a  step-mother ; — her  tears  and  prayers  were 
of  no  avail.  Thirteen  long  years  have  now  passed 
away,  and  she  still  gazes  on  the  dull  wall  of  the  con- 
vent, and  sighs  for  the  light  and  free  air  of  heaven. 
Her  situation  has  been  partially  relieved  by  the  inter- 


66  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


est  which  her  youth  and  beauty  have  awakened. 
The  companions  of  her  early  years  have  never  forgot- 
ten her,  and  now,  when  inquired  of  for  the  most 
beautiful  lady  of  the  island,  they  will  take  you  to  this 
convent,  and  call  to  its  impassable  grate  the  blushing 
Maria. 

Another  circumstance  has  cast  a  momentary  smile 
into  the  solitude  of  this  sweet  creature.  When  the 
constitutional  government  was  established  in  Portu- 
gal, an  order  was  issued  by  the  Cortes  that  the  doors 
of  all  religious  houses  should  be  unbarred.  The  con- 
sequence was,  that  Santa  Clara  was  freely  visited  by 
those  who  had  affection  or  curiosity  to  be  gratified  in 
that  form.  Among  others  who  availed  themselves  of 
this  privilege,  was  a  young  and  accomplished  officer 
in  the  Portuguese  navy.  He  saw  Maria,  and  felt  at 
once,  as  every  one  must,  the  charm  of  her  beauty. 
She  returned  his  affection,  with  a  gentleness  and  sin- 
cerity, which  showed  the  delicacy  and  truth  of  her 
heart.  She  was  now  free  from  the  authority  of  a 
cruel  parent,  and  of  the  coerced  obligations  of  the 
veil ;  and  she  engaged  to  receive  the  hand  of  the 
gallant  officer,  whose  heart  she  had  so  immtentionally 
won. 

The  wedding  day  was  appointed,  and  she  left  the 
convent  to  mingle  with  her  friends  a  short  time,  be- 
fore her  happy  union.  But  during  this  interval  she 
was  taken  seriously  ill, — the  excitement  of  society 
came  with  a  too  sudden  power  upon  one  of  her  sus- 


THE   BEAUTTETTL  NTJlSr.  67 

ceptible  nature, — the  wedding  day  was  deferred — fa- 
tally deferred  ! — for,  before  its  arrival,  the  Constitu- 
tional Parliament  was  forcibly  dissolved,  the  libera- 
ting act  of  the  Cortes  revoked,  and  Maria  remanded 
back,  in  tears  and  despair,  to  her  solitary  cell. 

He  in  whom  she  had  wound  up  her  gentle  affec- 
tions, and  who  had  fondly  identified  her  with  the 
hopes  and  happiness  of  his  coming  years,  was  now 
debarred  all  access  to  her  presence.  Yet  would  he 
ascend  a  rock  which  towered  near  the  convent,  and 
wave  his  white  handkerchief,  and  joyfully  catch  the 
answering  token  of  hers,  as  it  gleamed  from  the  grate 
of  her  high  window ;  and  in  the  still  night,  he  might 
often  be  seen  on  that  cliff  making  the  expressive  sig- 
nal, and  by  the  light  of  the  full  clear  moon,  exult- 
ingly  discovering,  at  the  shadowy  grate,  the  replying 
evidence  of  an  affection  that  could  outwatch  the 
morning  star. 

He  was  soon  ordered  by  his  government  upon  a 
foreign  station,  where  he  fell  an  early  victim  to  the 
diseases  of  the  climate ;  and  there  is  now  no  evidence 
of  his  having  been  here,  except  what  lives  in  the 
melancholy  remembrance  of  poor  Maria  ;  and  there 
seems  to  be  nothing  in  sympathy  with  her,  in  her  dis- 
appointment and  grief,  but  the  moaning  of  the  wave, 
as  it  dies  on  the  broken  shore. 

Such  is  an  outline  of  her  history,  to  whom  Mrs.  E.., 
Dr.  M.,  and  myself  were  introduced  this  morning,  by 
the  amiable  Miss  S.  E.,  of  Madeira.     Upon  ringing 


68  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


tlie  outer  bell  of  the  convent,  we  were  conducted  to  a 
well-furnished  parlor  in  the  second  loft,  communica- 
ting with  the  more  secluded  interior,  by  a  double 
grate.  The  lady  Abbess  was  called,  permission  to 
speak  with  Maria  solicited,  and  the  name  of  Miss  E. 
sent  in,  as  an  attraction  that  never  fails  to  bring  her 
forth. 

Maria  had  no  toilet  to  make,  no  curls  to  arrange, 
and  she  was  soon  seen  approaching  the  grate,  with 
that  easy  and  subdued  air,  which  refinement  and 
grief  only  can  mold.  Her  eye  kindled  instantly  as  it 
met  that  of  her  friend,  and  though  our  unexpected 
presence  seemed  at  first  slightly  to  disconcert  her, 
yet  it  was  only  a  momentary  embarrassment,  which 
bespake  the  retiring  delicacy  of  her  nature.  We  were 
all  immediately  at  ease,  and  she  was  speaking  to 
each,  in  a  tone  so  cheerful  and  animated,  that  we 
quite  forgot  the  sorrows  which  had  so  early  overshad- 
owed her  life. 

I  stepped  silently  to  a  position  where  I  could  study, 
with  less  exposure,  the  sweet  being  before  us.  Her 
veil  was  drawn  aside,  and  she  was  telling  Mrs.  R. 
of  the  glimmering  hope  which  still  lingered  in  her 
solitude.  I  have  met  before  with  many  a  face  justly 
regarded  as  lovely,  but  never  with  one  of  such  serene 
expressive  beauty.  This  indescribable  charm  was 
confined  to  no  particular  feature, — it  dwelt  like  a 
sweet  dream  upon  the  whole  countenance, — each 
turn,  and  shade,  and  swelling  line  contributed  to  it3 


EFFECT   OF   GEIEF.  G9 


perfection.  Yet  there  was  no  want  of  distinct  ex- 
pression,— her  fiill  blue  eje  alone  contained  tlie 
breaking  mystery  of  a  world,  —  all  the  voiceless 
thonghts,  feelings,  hopes,  and  desires  of  the  spirit 
within,  seemed  to  float  there  in  melancholy  life. 

The  sentiments  of  the  spectator  followed  in  quick 
sympathy  each  token  of  this  mute  oracle  of  her 
heart.  If  its  glance  fell  to  the  earth,  he  thought  of 
broken  hoj)es  and  blighted  expectations  ;  if  it  turned 
to  heaven,  he  felt  the  aspirations  of  a  confidence 
which  no  sorrows  can  wholly  quench ;  if  it  dwelt  for 
a  moment  on  him,  he  would  find  himself  in  smiles  or 
tears,  just  as  its  look  and  tone  might  be. 

Around  her  dewy  lips  dwelt  a  wonted  smile,  which 
appeared  as  if  it  had  been  checked  and  shaded  in  its 
sunny  flow,  by  some  counter  sentiment  of  grief;  and 
yet  her  lips  did  not  sufier,  in  the  breathing  sweetness 
of  their  expression,  by  these  mingling  emotions.  You 
felt  no  intense  desire  to  approach  those  lips  too  nearly, 
and  yet  you  could  not  turn  away  without  looking 
again  to  the  pensive,  half-formed  smile  which  slum- 
bered there. 

The  oval  outline  of  her  cheek  had  been  very  slightly 
invaded  by  her  sorrows,  though  it  still  retained  its 
delicate  transparency,  and  was  ever  and  anon  man- 
tling with  exquisite  life  and  loveliness.  The  exulting 
thought,  that  she  might  one  day  be  free,  would  now 
and  then  rush  to  her  glowing  cheek,  and  gleam  among 
its  paler  hues,  like  that  deceptive  flush,  with  which 


70  SHIP   A^'D   SHORE. 


the  hectic  sometunes  beautifies  the  dying ;  and  then 
the  chilhng  suggestions  of  doubt  and  despair  would 
blanch  it  again  to  its  marble  whiteness. 

Her  forehead,  from  which  her  raven  hair  was  rolled 
back,  rose  in  a  fulness  and  serenity  of  aspect,  that 
imparted  a  feminine  dignity  to  the  more  tender  and 
playful  features  of  her  face.  It  was  a  brow  that  be- 
spake  intellect,  without  any  of  its  sternness,  and  a 
serene  enthusiasm,  without  any  of  its  impatient  pas- 
sion. She  seemed  as  one  formed  to  please,  and  sen- 
sible to  the  gentlest  impulse,  yet  capable,  in  -an  hour 
of  trial,  of  leaning  upon  her  own  energies,  and  of 
sustaining  hei-self  upon  the  strength  of  a  spirit  which 
no  misfortune  can  wholly  subdue.  Still  she  appeared 
as  susceptible,  sweet,  and  childlike,  in  her  being,  as 
if  she  had  been  wholly  ignorant  of  this  undying  re- 
source in  herself. 

Her  form  was  in  keeping  with  the  delicacy  and 
richness  of  her  mind  and  countenance.  The  propor- 
tions were  molded  into  that  flowing  curve,  which 
fills  the  eye,  without  going  beyond  the  decision  of 
its  chastened  taste.  Her  whole  person,  in  its  more 
slender  and  full  expressions,  was  a  rare  and  happy 
triumph  of  nature ;  no  art  could  improve  it,  and  no 
heart  be  insensible  to  the  exquisite  perfection  of  its 
symmetry  and  beauty. 

Such  is  only  a  faint  outline  of  the'animated  being, 
near  whom  I  now  stood  as  one  enchanted  in  some 
dream  of  immortal  loveliness  and  grief    If  the  power 


SCHEMES   OF   ESCAPE.  Tl 

had  then  been  lent  me,  the  grate  of  that  convent  had 
fallen  in  twisted  fragments ;  and  I  half  accuse  myself 
now,  for  not  having  tried  the  wrenching  force  of  my 
arms  upon  it,  although  the  most  entire  success  would 
have  been  regarded  by  many,  merely  as  an  act  of 
romantic  folly.  But  cold  must  the  heart  be,  that 
could  turn  away  from  that  grate  without  being  kin- 
dled, and  filled  with  indignant  regret.  I  never  yet 
could  see  woman  in  tears,  without  being  deeply 
moved.  Man  in  his  prison,  may  busy  himself  in  the 
projected  and  daring  intentions  of  an  escape,  but 
these  bold  and  hardy  adventurers  are  above  the  cope 
and  bearinoj  of  the  timid  and  retiring  female  :  she 
might,  perhaps,  nom-ish  them  silently  in  her  heart, 
yet  when  she  came  to  their  execution,  her  difiident 
hand  would  fail  in  its  perilous  office. 

Her  voice  possessed  a  singular  sweetness,  and  liquid 
fulness  of  tone ;  its  modulations  came  warbling  on 
the  ear  like  the  musical  flow  of  a  rich  harp-string ;  it 
was  a  breathing  harmony,  living  a  moment,  and  then 
melting  away  in  the  soft  atmosphere,  which  her  pres- 
ence created.  It  aj^jjeared  to  possess  a  mellowing 
and  pervading  influence,  bathing  her  lighted  counte- 
nance, and  steeping  in  music  each  eloquent  feature. 
It  resembled,  in  this  spreading  sweetness,  the  flowing 
of  the  dew-drop  over  the  delicate  veins  of  the  violet. 

Yet  Maria  listened  eagerly  to  the  ingenious  sugges- 
tions of  Mrs.  R.  respecting  an  escape,  and  deemed 
it,  in  the  shape  contemplated,  as  practicable.     But 


72  SHIP    AND    SHORE. 


what  could  slie  do,  provided  this  escape  was  effected ; 
there  was  no  conceahnent  in  Madeira,  that  could  long 
secure  her  from  the  searching  pursuit  of  her  oppres- 
sors, and  she  could  not  fly  away  unprotected  into  a 
land  of  strangers.  Mrs.  E,.  was  ready  to  offer  her 
the  protection  and  patronage  of  a  sister,  but  her  con- 
nection with  a  public  ship,  and  with  the  commander 
of  that  ship,  forbade,  for  the  present,  this  generous 
expression  of  sympathy ;  besides,  Maria  had  too  much 
delicacy  to  allow  her  liberation  to  involve  her  friend 
in  any  embarrassment.  I  regretted,  for  once,  that  it 
was  not  in  my  power  to  absolve  myself  from  the  ob- 
ligations and  responsibilities  of  a  commission  in  the 
navy.  I  know  not  that  the  beautiful  creature  would 
have  taken  the  adventurous  flight  with  me,  but  sure 
I  am  that  I  would  not  have  parted  with  such  a  prize 
for  all  the  pearls  of  Omer  and  the  gems  of  Golconda. 

These  sentiments  of  admiration  were  by  no  means 
confined  to  myself.'  Dr.  M.,  in  this  animated  inter- 
change of  thoughts  with  the  lovely  captive,  had  un- 
consciously caught  the  pleasing  infection  ;  indeed,  it 
could  not  be  otherwise  with  a  man  of  his  discrimina- 
ting taste  and  fine  susceptibilities.  And  then  the 
object  of  om'  symj)athy  and  affection  was  before  us, 
so  lovely,  helpless,  and  surpassingly  beautiful :  a  heart 
that  never  moved  before  would  have  melted  then. 

I  wish  I  could  trace  the  various  turns  which  her 

conversation  took,  and  the  refined  mental  accomplish- 

•  nients  which  it  betrayed.    The  varied  topics  upon 


THE   HOUR   OF   PARTING.  73 

which  her  brilliant  imagination  lighted,  she  instantly 
animated  with  the  very  life  of  her  feelings.  Silence 
and  solitude,  with  the  contemj^lative  habits  which 
they  bring,  seemed  to  have  attuned  her  mind  into 
harmony  with  the  most  pm-e  and  ethereal  sphere  of 
thought.  Her  spirit  had  a  home  there,  far  above  the 
tumult,  and  strife,  and  sorrows  of  earth. 

But  our  parting  moment  had  now  come,  yet  we 
did  not  go  without  a  token  of  Maria's  affectionate 
regard.  She  put  into  the  hand  of  each  a  cluster  of 
fresh  flowers.  Among  those  which  she  presented  to 
Mrs.  R.  were  several  of  her  own  fabrication,  but 
so  delicately  pencilled,  you  could  not  have  told  them 
from  the  living  blossoms,  with  which  they  were  inter- 
twined. Mrs.  R.  tendered  her  in  return  an  elegant 
ring,  on  which  were  appropriately  rej)resented  two 
clasi^ed  hands  in  cameo.  As  for  myself,  I  had  nothing 
about  my  person  indicative  of  my  feelings,  excej)t 
two  hearts  cut  in  carnelion,  and  so  peculiarly  united, 
that  a  destruction  of  one  must  be  the  ruin  of  the 
other.  These  little  offerings  Maria  accepted  with  a 
look  of  gratified  sadness ;  and  now,  as  we  breathed 
our  adieu,  and  turned  to  go,  her  small  white  hand 
came  quickly  through  the  grate  to  Mrs.  R.,  and 
before  it  was  withdrawn,  w^e  each  pressed  it  to  our 
lips,  and  then  wound  off 

"  With  lingering  step,  and  slow." 


74  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


CHAPTER    V. 

How  freshly  on  our  slumbers  broke  the  morn, 
How  sweet  the  music  of  the  mountain  stream, 

How  all  things  seemed  of  bliss  and  beauty  born. 
And  bounding  into  life,  with  day's  young  beam ! — 

Alas,  the  sin  that  could  such  joys  forego. 

And  fill  an  infant  world  with  guilt  and  woe ! 

A     SINGULAR    MARRIAGE CATHEDRAL — CLERGY ^WEIGHING    A    PROTEST- 
ANT— THE    PROSCRIBED     FIDALGO — CAMANCHA    VILLA ITS    LADY THE 

RIBEIRO — A   SLEEPING    SENTINEL — FORCE    OF   HUMAN   SYMPATHY MYS 

TERY     OF     SLEEP — JOY     OF     MORNING MATINS     OF     MARIA — RIDE     TO 

THE  CURRAL — STUPENDOUS  SCENERY — QUIET  HAMLET — FORCE    OF  HABIT 

saint's    day HOMAGE    OF    GUNPOWDER — RECOLLECTIONS     OF    HOME 

TWILIGHT — THE   VESPER-BELL. 

A  SMAI.L  party  of  us  left  the  ship  to-day  to  dine 
with  Mr.  B.,  at  his  Camancha  Yilla.  On  reaching 
the  shore  we  were  met  by  a  little  girl,  who  came  run- 
ning up  to  us,  with  an  eye  full  of  laughter.  I  could 
not  at  first  account  for  her  delight,  but  it  seemed  that 
she  sought  in  smiles,  what  many  seek  in  tears. 
"When  the  little  boon  which  she  asked,  simply  jpor 
sua  saude — for  the  sake  of  your  salvation — reached 
her  hand,  off  with  it  she  ran  to  a  matronly  looking 
person,  in  the  most  simple  attire,  who  received  it  with 
a  grateful  countenance. 

It  appears  this  lady  is  the  mother  of  the  girl,  and 
in  her  more  youthful  and  romantic  years,  gave  the 


THE  BEGGAE  AND  PRIEST.  T5 

very  highest  evidence  of  the  bewildering  power  of 
the  "  capricious  passion,"  for  though  of  a  respectable 
family,  she  gave  her  heart  and  hand  to  a  blind  beg- 
gar— 

"  The  current  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth," — 

and  lived  with  him  in  a  small  cave,  till  his  death,  an 
event  which  occurred  a  few  years  after  their  mar- 
riage. This  playful  child  was  theirs,  and  now  sup- 
poi-ts  her  forsaken  mother  by  smiling  you  into  a  be- 
nevolent humor,  and  then  taking  yom-  cheerful  offering 
to  one,  whom  all  should  regard  with  charity,  who  be- 
lieve in  the  resistless  force  of  love. 

"We  now  entered  the  Cathedral,  and  found  the 
priests  extremely  polite  and  attentive  ;  indeed,  they 
could  not  with  a  good  grace  be  otherwise,  for  they 
had  been  telling  the  lower  orders  of  the  population — 
who  regard  them  as  little  less  than  oracles — that  we 
had  been  sent  of  heaven,  to  break  up  the  alarming 
blockade  of  Don  Pedi-o,  and  afford  an  access  to  pro- 
visions, which  had  begun  to  grow  scarce  in  the 
island.  We  had,  indeed,  broken  uj)  the  blockade, 
but  I  seriously  question  whether  our  commission 
emanated  from  a  higher  source  than  the  president  of 
the  United  States ;  much  less  could  it  be  regarded  as 
an  expression  of  divine  pleasure  towards  the  ambi- 
tious designs  of  the  ex-emperor  of  Brazil,  or  of  foster- 
ing favor  towards  the  riveted  despotism  of  his  brother 
Don  Miguel,  or  of  holy  sanction  towards  the  political 


76  SHIP    AND    SHORE. 


inliueuce  of  a  priesthood  whose  power  is  here  based 
on  the  most  humiliating  ignorance  and  superstition. 

The  cathedral  is  a  large  structure  of  no  exterior 
pretension,  in  the  modern  style,  and  lined  with  many 
pictures  of  the  dying  and  the  dead.  Among  these 
paintings,  one,  from  its  more  conspicuous  position 
and  characteristic  design,  instantly  caught  my  atten- 
tion. It  held  forth,  in  strong  relief,  the  most  un- 
evenly balanced  scales  ever  known  since  the  weigh- 
ing of  man's  prospects  of  heaven.  In  one  lay  a  good 
favored  Catholic,  plump  down  to  the  comiter,  solid 
and  sure  ;  in  the  other,  an  unlucky  Protestant,  keeled 
up  in  ho])eless  despair.  He  had  been  laid  in  the  Jes- 
uitical balance,  and  found  wanting.  We  might  smile 
at  this  symbol  of  bigotry,  were  it  not  that  it  whimsi- 
cally forestalls  the  decisions  of  the  Judgment-day. 

We  now  mounted  ponies  for  Camancha,  distant 
six  or  seven  miles.  The  road  which  we  took  led  past 
the  magnificent  villa  of  Seignor  Joas  de  Carvalhal, 
the  richest  Fidalgo  of  the  island.  Having  in  our 
company  a  gentleman  quite  at  home  there,  we  halted, 
and,  dismounting,  entered  a  heavy  iron  gate  whose 
rusty  bolts  spoke  of  change  and  misfortune.  The 
winding  vistas  of  the  orange,  lemon,  myrtle,  and  ba- 
nana, with  the  reeling  vine  and  fragrant  flower, 
opened  before  us  in  tropical  luxuriance.  To  the  eye 
of  one  just  from  a  frost-bitten  clime,  it  was  as  the  first 
blush  of  Eden  to  the  eye  of  Adam. 

Through  the  green  depths  rippled  a  stream  that 


THE   VILLA   OF   CAMANCHA.  Y7 

had  been  induced  from  the  distant  mountain.  Here 
it  fell  in  a  glittering  cascade ;  there  it  supplied  a 
calm  lake,  upon  which  floated  a  swan  joyously,  as  if 
ignorant  of  the  exiled  and  unhappy  condition  of  its 
lord.  Alas,  for  him !  a  man  of  noble  qualities,  whose 
munificent  hospitality  was  in  keeping  with  his  wealth ; 
but  he  was  suspected  of  entertaining  principles  that 
breathed  too  warmly  of  freedom,  and  was  forced  to 
fly,  leaving  his  immense  estates  to  confiscation  and 
plunder.  I  saw,  but  a  few  days  since,  a  number  of 
the  hundred  pipes  of  wine  found  in  his  cellar,  and 
which  had  been  seized  by  the  government,  exposed 
to  sale.  But  no  purchasers  appeared  ;  they  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  "JSTaboth's  vineyard."  Ahab 
might  revel  in  its  sweets,  and  share  alone  the  fruits  of 
his  crime.  After  a  saddened  walk  of  two  hours 
through  the  neglected  park,  the  deserted  mansion, 
the  silent  chapel,  and  forsaken  summer-house,  we 
whispered  a  deep  denunciation  to  tyrann}^,  and  de- 
parted. 

We  were  soon  at  the  Camancha  Yilla,  which  is 
nestled  in  a  small  verdant  valley,  and  sheltered  from 
the  drifting  winds  by  a  circling  range  of  densely 
wooded  steps.  It  is  just  such  a  spot  as  one  would 
choose,  who  wishes  to  retire  from  the  dusty  jar  of  the 
world  and  drink  in  the  fresh  spirit  of  nature.  It  is 
in  perfect  consonance  with  the  tranquil  cast  of  her 
taste  who  fixed  on  this  spot,  not  so  much  from  a  set- 
tled disaffection  to  the  more  stirring  scenes  of  life,  as 


78  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


the  desire  of  an  occasional  refuge,  where  she  might 
indulge  her  classical  and  contemplative  habits.  I 
have  seen  this  accomplished  lady  in  the  circles  of  the 
gay,  and  though  she  would  there  enchain  the  capri- 
cious waywardness  of  youth  in  a  sparkling  flow  of 
thought,  yet  it  is  in  this  hushed  place  that  she  seems 
to  fill  the  full  measure  of  her  sphere.  She  is  here 
as  the  Queen  of  night  moving  through  the  silent 
heaven. 

We  had  taken  om*  walk  through  the  garden  which, 
like  that  of  Tasso's  muse, 

"  Apriche  collinette,  amtrose  valle, 
Sil-ve  e  spelonche  in  vista  offerse," 

where  the  plants  of  India,  Africa,  and  Mexico,  breathe 
theii"  mingling  perfume.  We  had  seen  the  little  boat 
that  on  its  crystal  element  trims  its  own  sail  to  the 
breeze,  and  the  gold-fish  sporting  in  the  ripple  of  its 
wake ;  we  had  traced  the  streamlet  ever  murmuring 
its  music  to  the  spirit  of  the  place,  and  living  on  in 
freshness  and  harmony  when  decay  has  stricken  the 
blossoming  year  ;  the  festivities  of  the  day  were  over, 
our  sentiments  of  friendship  plighted,  and  now  the 
purpling  twilight  bade  us  dej^art.  Adieu  to  thee, 
Camancha, — adieu  to  thee,  fan*  lady, — many  be  thy 
years,  and  happy  as  he  is  blest,  who  won  and  retains 
thy  affections. 

On  our  return  we  crossed  the  riheiro,  which  inter- 
sects the  eastern  end  of  the  city  ;  it  now  shows  itself 


A   MOUNTAIN   DELUGE.  79 

only  as  a  little  babbling  brook,  but  some  twenty  years 
past,  I  am  told,  it  was  so  swollen  by  tlie  bm'sting  of 
a  cloud  in  the  mountains,  that  it  carried  oif  in  its 
torrent  sweep  a  hundred  dwellings  with  their  un- 
warned inhabitants.  It  occurred  in  the  dead  of  the 
night,  and  before  the  sleeper  could  wake  to  his  peril, 
he  was  whelmed  in  the  rushing  mass  of  ruin  : 

"  lapides  adesos, 


Stirpesque  raptas,  et  pecus,  et  domos 
Volventes  vaik." 

Tne  gigantic  remains  of  a  church  are  still  shown 
as  the  sad  e^'idence  of  this  terrible  catastrophe,  which 
indeed  seems  to  have  anchored  itself  so  frightfully  in 
the  recollections  of  the  people,  that  they  speak  of 
events  which  took  place  before  the  flood,  and  leave 
you  in  danger  of'  confounding  the  miracles  of  this 
little  streamlet  with  the  destructions  of  the  general 
deluge. 

On  reaching  the  gate  which  communicates  with 
the  shore,  we  found  it  bolted,  and  a  sentry  sleeping 
beside  it,  with  as  much  composure  as  if  the  days  of 
hanging  and  shooting  for  this  defection  from  duty 
were  over.  His  gun  lay  beside  him,  wet  with  the 
dew  ;  and  even  his  dog,  whom  it  would  seem  he  had 
appointed  a  sort  of  deputy  watch,  did  not  feel  suf- 
ficiently the  responsibilities  of  his  trust  to  keep  wholly 
awake. 

All  this  was  well  for  us,  not  that  it  enabled  us  to 
pass  the  gate,  but  the  poor  soldier  on  awaking  was  bo 


80  SHIP   AND    SHORE, 


happy  in  ascertaining  that  it  was  not  the  patrol  who 
had  caught  him  asleej),  that  he  unceremoniously 
turned  the  key,  and  saved  us  the  trouble  of  going  to 
the  guard-house  for  a  pass.  Poor  fellow  ! — let  him 
sleep  and  take  his  rest ;  for  what  is  life  to  him — what 
its  thousand  sources  of  wakefulness  and  interest  ? 
His  days  molder  through  a  narrow  round  of  un- 
meaning duties.  In  peace  there  is  nothing  to  quicken 
a  solitary  pulse  ;  and  if  war  come,  it  is  only  that  he 
may  be  hacked  to  pieces  for  the  ambition  of  another, 
and  then  cast  into  a  hospital  to  be  forgotten  and  die ! 

My  feelings,  while  looking  at  the  condition  of  this 
poor  soldier,  would  alone  convince  me  of  the  force 
and  sacredness  of  human  sympathy.  We  are  so 
mysteriously  made  that  suffering  and  virtue,  in  what- 
ever form  presented,  never  fail  to  excite  our  pity  and 
veneration.  Even  where  this  affecting  trait  is  an 
exception  to  all  the  other  characteristics  of  the  in- 
dividual, still  we  admire  and  weep.  The  tender 
affection  of  Conrad  for  Medora  half  reconciles  us  to 
the  wild  life  of  the  Corsair ;  and  we  tremble  to  each 
doubt  and  hope,  as  he  springs  from  shore  to  cliff  to 
greet  once  more — alas  !  that  changed  and  changeless 
countenance. 

We  yearn  to  let  Othello  know  that  the  object  of 
Ills  luve  and  fatal  jealousy  is  innocent,  and  that  lago 
is  the  wretch  on  whom  the  lightning  of  his  indigna- 
tion should  fall.  We  rejoice  to  see  the  "  Birnam- 
wood  move  towards  Dimsinane,"  convincino-  us  no 


THE   POWER   OF   SYMPATHY.  81 


less  tliau  Macbetli,  that  lie  may  be  put  to  death  by 
"  man  of  woman  bom."  When  Romeo  with  his 
mattock  thunders  on  the  portal  of  the  tomb  in  which 
Juliet  sleeps,  we  hear  the  marble  break,  and  would 
give  a  world  could  Juliet  hear  it  also.  AYhen  Glou- 
cester loses  his  eyes,  and  with  them,  his  desire  of  life, 
and  hires  a  poor  peasant,  as  he  supposes,  to  lead  him 
to  the  verge  of  the  precipice  that  beetles  over  the  sea, 
and  bidding  an  eternal  farewell  to  the  world,  makes 
the  desperate  leap,  it  is  quite  as  difficult  to  persuade 
us  as  it  was  him,  that  he  has  not  actually  fallen  many 
a  fearful  fathom  down. 

This  sympathy  extends  beyond  our  own  species. 
Cowper  is  not  the  only  being  who  has  wept  over  the 
untimely  end  of  some  favorite  prisoner  of  the  cage. 
I  should  not  envy  a  man  his  sensibility  who  could  be 
at  ease,  and  hear  the  bleatings  of  a  lamb  that  had 
fallen  into  the  clutches  of  a  wolf.  Nor  is  this  sym- 
pathy confined  to  animal  existence.  The  mariner 
has  a  strange  afiisction  for  the  plank  that  has  saved 
him  from  a  watery  grave.  The  octogenarian  looks 
upon  his  old  familiar  cane  rather  as  a  companion 
than  a  support.  Even  the  dog  will  bark  at  the  stone 
that  has  rolled  too  carelessly  over  his  foot.  Thus  are 
we  strangely  linked  in  our  perceptions  and  sym- 
pathies with  all  the  animate  and  material  objects  of 
the  world  ;  and  the  slightest  of  them  may  often  strike 
this  electric  chain  with  vivifying  force. 

Enough  of  this  philosojjhizing  humor.     The  night 

4* 


82  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


wears  late — the  lamp  tliat  lights  this  vagrant  page 
bums  dimly  :  I  must  rest — must  sleep.  Strange  state 
of  being — to  live,  yet  be  unconscious — to  breathe, 
yet  feel  not  the  pulses  thrill — to  sigh,  love,  smile,  and 
weep,  yet  be  insensible  to  the  quick  presence  of  all 
outward  things  !  Would  that  one  could  penetrate  this 
state — reveal  its  mysteries — its  deej),  tongueless  se- 
crets : — does  it  resemble  the  slumber  of  the  shroud  ? 
or  do  we  there  dive  still  deeper  from  the  realities  of 
life  ?  how  shall  tliat  sleep  be  broken  up  ? 

"  When  will  it  be  morn  in  the  grave  ?" 

ISTatm'e  here  awakes  from  her  night's  repose  with  a 
freshness  and  vigor  which  fill  one  with  the  most 
vivifying  sensations.  Each  mount  and  vale  and  wood 
and  waterfall  break  upon  you  with  an  exulting  life, 
that  calls  up  within  you  the  joyous  and  irrepressible 
feelings  of  yom-  earliest  years.  Your  first  impulse  is 
to  bury  yourself  in  some  more  favored  recess,  or 
ascend  some  height,  around  which  the  fragrant  earth 
sends  up  the  incense  of  its  thousand  altars.  To 
gratify  these  feelings  in  their  widest  scope,  we  started 
this  morning,  with  the  freshening  light,  for  the  Cur- 
ral — that  great  marvel  of  Madeiran  scenery. 

We  were  well  mounted,  and  soon  moving  through 
the  high-walled  street  which  leads  past  the  con- 
vent of  Santa  Clara.  It  was  the  hour  of  Matins,  and 
the  early  prayer  of  the  beautiful  Maria  was  ascending, 
in  unison  with  the  pure  homage  of  nature,  to  the 


MATESrS   OF   MARIA.  83 


great  Source  of  all  light  and  blessedness.  I  could 
have  stopped  and  listened  to  the  solemn  chant  that 
stole  through  the  grate  of  the  chapel  window,  but 
sterner  hearts  were  near  me,  and  I  must  move  on, 
with  only  time  to  whisper  an  earnest  blessing  to  the 
unseen  worshipper  within.  "Who  could  endm-e  to  be 
cut  off,  like  this  lovely  being,  in  the  first  flowing  of 
the  heart's  affections,  from  all  the  congenial  objects  of 
its  fervid  desire — never  to  mingle  in  the  delights  of 
social  endearment — never  to  feel  the  sweet  influences 
of  the  varied  year — never  to  see  the  return  of  purpling 
eve,  or 

"  Morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad, 
"Walk  o'er  the  dew  of  yon  high  eastern  hill !" 

From  the  convent  we  passed  the  humble  church  of 
St.  Antonio,  and  thence  onward  and  upward  through 
a  continuous  series  of  vineyards,  all  sheltered  from 
the  chilling  effects  of  the  north  winds  by  the  heights 
to  which  we  were  tending.  The  orange-tree  was 
bending  under  its  golden  burden ;  the  banana  reveal- 
ing between  the  bright  expanse  of  its  broad  leaves- its 
delicious  ti-easures ;  and  the  low  winds,  which  had 
slept  amid  the  flowers  through  the  night,  were 
abroad,  scattering  the  perfume  of  their  gathered 
sweets.  A  mile  or  two  further  of  these  gi-adual  as- 
cents, and  cultivation  ceased ;  the  vine,  save  here 
and  there,  could  not  find  soil  in  which  to  strike  its 
roots ;  and  even  where  it  could  effect  this  foothold, 


84  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


was  cliilled  into  sterilitv.  We  continued  on,  now  in 
a  zigzag  motion,  i;p  the  steep  height,  and  then  on  a 
path  of  frightful  narrowness  and  elevation  around  its 
sharp  pinnacle,  till  our  steps  were  at  length  suspend- 
ed on  the  verge  of  the  Curral. 

This  island  wonder  is  a  valley  of  a  wild  ravine 
character,  lying  at  a  depth  of  three  thousand  feet  be- 
neath the  cliff  on  which  we  stood,  and  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  an  equal,  and  at  many  points,  by  a  still 
loftier  range  of  rocks.  Far  down  in  its  green  bosom, 
a  cluster  of  white  cottages  may  be  seen,  in  the  midst 
of  which  stands  the  delicate  church  of  Nossa  Senhora 
do  Livramento,  and  near  by,  the  humble  mansion  of 
the  goodly  padre.  These  habitations,  from  our 
elevated  position,  appeared  not  larger  than  what 
might  well  accommodate  the  prattlers  of  the  nursery ; 
and  the  hawk,  which  wheeled  midway,  dwindled  to 
the  form  of  a  bird  that  might  rock  itself  to  slumber 
in  a  rose-bud. 

The  quiet  aspect  of  this  little  village  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  mountain  barrier  which  towered 
in  wildness  and  grandeur  around  it.  In  many  places 
these  precipices  dropped  to  the  bottom  with  an  al- 
most perpendicular  front ;  in  others  they  were  bro- 
ken, and  there  the  Til  and  Yinhatico  cast  below  the 
deep  umbrage  of  their  forest  gloom  ;  while  over  the 
wave-w^orn  steep  rushed  some  stream  on  its  exulting 
course  to  the  torrent  that  called  to  it  from  beneath. 
It  was  a  place  where  the  thvmder-cloud  would  seem 


DESCEisT    TO    THE    CUKEAL,  85 

most  at  home ;  yet,  as  the  cahn  bow  will  sometimes 
attend  this  minister  of  sublime  terror,  so  this  sweet 
hamlet  smiled  out  from  its  terrific  dwelling-place. 

"We  now  commenced  our  descent  to  the  valley, 
which  we  reached  by  an  extremely  narrow  path,  cut 
along  the  steep  face  of  the  rocks,  and  requiring  in 
us  a  philosopher's  steadiness  of  brain,  and  a  rope- 
dancer's  dexterity  of  balance.  The  ingenuity  dis- 
played by  our  Burroqueros  in  getting  down  our 
ponies,  was  quite  original,  and  but  for  the  perils 
attending  it,  would  have  been  burstingly  ludicrous. 
When  a  smooth  precipitous  descent  of  several  feet 
occurred,  where  the  animal  could  obtain  no  foothold, 
they  would  let  him  down  upon  his  patient  haunches, 
by  the  flowing  length  of  his  tail,  with  many  appliances 
of  a  steadying  character,  nicely  adjusted  to  the  emer- 
gency of  the  occasion.  This  will  appear  about  as 
credible  as  the  story  of  the  flying-horse ;  but  if  there 
never  be  a  greater  deviation  from  truth,  exaggeration 
and  falsehood  will  cease  among  travellers. 

On  reaching  the  small  church  of  the  hamlet,  we 
found  a  tiny  flag  flying  from  something  like  a  liberty- 
pole,  in  its  court,  and  a  little  cannon  sending  out  its 
noisy  breath.  On  inquiring  for  the  occasion  of  this 
military  display,  we  were  informed  that  it  was  in 
honor  of  the  sainted  lady,  whose  image  we  now  dis- 
covered on  the  flapping  banner.  I  had  heard  of 
prayers  being  offered  to  saints,  but  the  homage  of 
gunpowder  was  a  novelty.    It  is  a  little  singular  that 


86  SHIP   AWD  SHORE. 


the  same  element  which  the  assassin  employs  for  the 
destruction  of  his  victim,  the  suj:»pliant  should  use  in 
worship  of  his  saint.  But  enough  of  this  heterodox 
deviation. 

Standing  in  the  centre  of  this  deep  valley,  though 
the  indications  of  human  life  and  industry  are  around 
one  in  a  variety  of  forms,  yet  there  is  very  little  that 
forcibly  reminds  him  of  man.  This  domestic  senti- 
ment is  overwhelmed  in  the  mightier  impressions  of 
nature.  From  the  bottom  of  a  profound  abyss,  he  is 
looking  up  to  mountains  which  steeply  inclose  him 
on  all  sides,  and  tower  to  the  very  heavens  in  the 
wildest  magnificence.  From  the  broken  summits, 
around  which  the  cloud  rallies  in  darkness,  down  to 
the  torrent  that  rolls  at  his  feet,  every  thing  awes  and 
subdues  him.  Wherever  he  turns,  the  threatening 
mass  of  some  lofty  cliff,  or  the  shadowy  mysteries  of 
some  unpierced  chasm,  or  the  hollow  voice  of  some 
unseen  waterfall,  or  the  perpetual  gloom  of  the  forest- 
tree,  impresses  him  with  sublime  terror.  He  feels  as 
one  shut  out  from  the  gayer  scenes  of  earth — confined 
within  an  insurmomitable  barrier  of  precipitous  rock, 
and  doomed  forever,  in  his  helplessness  and  desertion, 
to  tremble  under  a  sense  of  height  and  depth,  soli- 
tude, solemnity,  and  danger. 

Yet  the  unpretending  tenants  of  this  secluded  spot 
pursue  their  quiet  vocations  as  free  of  alarm  as  they 
are  of  molestation.  They  cultivate  their  vines  in  the 
very  crater,  whose  bursting   energies  threw  up  this 


STTrPENDOTJS  SCENERY. 


87 


island  from  the  bed  of  the  ocean.  Eveiy  thmg 
around  them  has  upon  it  the  marks  of  volcanic  vio- 
lence, and  seems  still  to  be  pillared  upon  a  slumber- 
ing earthquake  ;  but  these  ominous  appearances  and 
recollections  do  not  disturb  their  calm  and  ever-cheer- 
ful contentment. 

This  results  from  the  force  of  habit.  It  is  this 
mysterious  principle  in  our  nature  that  enables  the 
mariner  to  sing  under  the  dark  fi'own  of  the  coming 
storm ;  that  makes  the  peasant  sleep  soundly  at  the 
shaking  foot  of  Etna ;  and  the  chamois  hunter  pm'sue 
his  game,  in  lightness  and  glee,  along  the  glittering 
verge  of  the  avalanche.  Can  any  thing  within  the 
range  of  our  conceptions  more  thoroughly  adapt  man 
to  his  condition,  than  nature  ?  This  she  effects  so 
silently  and  unperceived  by  the  individual  himself, 
that  before  he  is  aware  of  it,  he  is  singing  under  the 
cloud  that  mantles  the  tempest — looking  with  exulting 
sensations  into  the  eye  of  the  volcano — or  holding  a 
carnival  over  the  ashes  and  bones  of  an  entombed 
city.  Let  those  who  treat  with  lightness  the  un- 
tutored influences  of  nature,  find  in  reason,  if  they 
can,  a  more  effective  and  pervading  power. 

I  return  to  the  Curral.  This  is  a  part  of  the  do- 
main of  the  Santa  Clara  Convent ;  and  is  contem- 
plated as  a  refuge  for  the  nuns,  in  case  a  hostile  inva- 
sion should  render  it  necessary.  I  should  be  tempted 
myself  to  join  an  expedition  to  storm  the  nunnery, 
if  it  would  be  the  means  of  planting  in  this  retreat 


88  snip   ANT)   SHORE. 


the  imprisoned  Maria.  Her  romantic  heart  would 
here  find  objects  fitted  to  its  high  and  enthusiastic 
nature. 

She  is  now  like  a  bird  of  adventurous  wing  and 
gifted  song,  caged  to  the  lattice  of  one  that  is  steeled 
to  the  injury  inflicted,  and  incapable  of  grief  for  the 
melody  lost.  I  must  unwire  that  cage  and  liberate 
tlie  captive :  there  will  then  be  music  sweeter  than 
that  breathed  through  the  star-lit  bowers  of  Eden  by 


"  Tlie  wakeful  nightingale, 

Who  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung." 

Tlie  spot  on  which  we  had  fixed  for  a  half-hour's 
repose,  was  a  large  rock,  rising  boldly  out  of  the 
rushing  stream,  and  commanding  the  most  compre- 
hensive view  of  the  stupendous  scenes  around.  We 
here  spread  out  the  welcome  collation,  which  the 
provident  forethought  of  Mrs.  R.  had  munificently 
provided.  TJje  severe  exercise  which  we  had  under- 
gone gave  a  keen  relish  to  the  occasion.  There  is  no 
appetite  so  unfastidious  in  its  demands,  and  so  happy 
in  its  gratification,  as  that  produced  by  mild  fatigue, 
especially  when  the  effort  has  been  sprinkled  with 
adventure,  and  enlivened  by  agreeable  company. 
We  suspended  a  bottle  or  two  of  the  purest  Madeira 
in  the  stream — which  was  indisputably  an  excellent 
cooler — and  then,  in  the  flowing  cup,  remembered 
those  far  away,  and  some  of  whom,  perhaps,  we  never 
more  might  see. 


ASCENT   OF   THE  CHREAL.  89 


Witli  what  yearning  fondness  the  affections  of  one 
in  a  strange  land  will  turn  to  his  native  shore,  though 
oceans  roll  between !  I  am  not  astonished  that  the 
exiled  Swiss  thinks  of  his  wild  hills  with  mournful 
regret;  much  less  do  I  wonder  that  the  Hebrew 
captive  hung  his  harp  on  the  willow,  and  wept  by 
Babel's  stream,  when  he  remembered  Zion.  Home 
never  appears  so  sweet  to  us  as  when  deprived  of  its 
endearments ;  all  that  may  have  been  coarse  or  re- 
pulsive about  it,  is  then  forgotten,  and  eyerj  attrac- 
tion is  invested  with  an  additional  charm. 

Our  repast  over,  Capt.  Head  proposed  that  we 
should  climb  the  side  of  the  Curral,  opposite  to  that 
which  we  had  descended.  The  task  was  one  of  ex- 
treme difficulty,  for  the  face  of  the  mountain,  though 
broken  into  chasms,  cliffs,  and  crags,  was  very  pre- 
cipitous, and  presented  an  elevation  of  four  thousand 
feet.  But  by  winding  along  its  front,  and  improving 
every  slope  of  less  boldness,  we  at  last  gained  the  top. 
Thanks  to  the  roots  of  those  shrubs  for  the  pertinacity 
with  which  they  clung  to  the  rocks  :  it  w^as  often  our 
only  hope  and  safety. 

I  thought  we  had  taken  a  final  farewell  of  our 
ponies,  but  their  attendants  forced  them  up.  The 
dexterity  of  both  is  incredible ;  they  seem  to  be 
strangers  to  fatigue,  and  superior  to  any  obstacles 
wiiich  nature,  in  her  fiercest  fit  of  defiance,  may  cast 
in  their  way.  We  now  picked  our  way  along  the 
sharp  ridge,  with  the  Curral  on  our  left,  when  the 


90  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


Serra  d'Agoa,  a  ravine  of  equal  depth,  and  perhaps 
of  more  rugged  magnificence,  opened  beneath  us  on 
the  right.  A  current  of  white  clouds  was  pouring 
down  its  opposite  side,  and  so  closely  resembling  a 
foaming  cataract,  that  the  illusion  for  a  few  minutes 
was  entire.  The  lingering  splendors  of  the  setting 
sun,  the  silence  of  the  approaching  twilight,  and  the 
lono;  shadows  which  beo;an  to  cast  their  dark  forms 
below,  imparted  a  fearful  interest  and  solemnity  to 
the  scene. 

I  have  stood  by  the  plunging  tide  of  Niagara,  and 
seen  its  mighty  wave  roll  down  into  its  abyss  of  agony 
and  thmider ;  but  there  is  not  in  all  its  fierceness  and 
crushing  strength,  that  which  fills  the  mind  with  such 
a  deep  and  mysterious  awe  as  these  hushed  and 
fathomless  ravines.  We  could  have  lingered  here 
for  hours,  but  the  fading  light  warned  us  to  go.  "Woe 
to  the  luckless  wight  who  sings  his  Ave  Maria  on 
that  height ;  it  wiU.  be  his  last  vesper  ;  the  dryads  of 
the  untrodden  chasm  only  will  know  the  place  of  his 
grave. 

We  descended  without  any  serious  accident,  and 
were  happy  in  finding  ourselves  once  more  on  a  road 
where  we  could  mount  our  ponies.  Our  return,  in 
consequence  of  having  crossed  the  Curral,  was  much 
more  circuitous  than  our  route  in  the  morning ;  but 
the  picturesque  novelty  of  the  varying  scenery,  as  it 
opened  upon  us  in  the  depths  of  the  twilight  horn', 
more  than  reconciled  us  to  the  length  of  our  way. 


BEAUTIES   OF   TWILIGHT. 


91 


The  light  that  is  shed  here  from  an  evening  sky,  lies 
on  the  landscape  in  a  rich  mellow  slumber.  There  is 
a  softness  and  liquid  fulness  about  it,  that  makes  you 
think  you  can  drink  it  as  you  would  nectar.  Were  I 
to  tm'n  idolater  here,  the  objects  of  my  worship  would 
be  the  genius  that  reigns  in  the  awful  Curral,  the 
spirit  that  breathes  through  the  star-lit  night,  and  the 
beautiful  being  who  dwells  in  sweetness  and  grief 
within  the  veil  of  Santa  Clara. 

Hark  to  the  bell  in  Clara's  turret  ringing, 
Bidding  the  vestals  for  their  rites  prepare ; 

When  low  before  the  white-robed  altar  kneeling, 
Maria  meekly  breathes  her  vesper  prayer ; 

A  prayer  so  full  of  holy,  fervid  feeling. 
She  seems  a  sainted  spirit,  lighted  there 

To  pray, — giving  to  this  one  spot  of  earth 

The  heavenly  charm  that  hovered  round  its  birth. 


93  SHIP  AND   SHORE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Oh,  there  is  something  in  this  stirring  hour, 
Just  as  the  sun  is  circling  from  the  sea, 

Which  has,  if  any  thing  can  have,  the  power 
To  make  men  feel  that  it  were  good  to  be 

Like  Him  whose  smiles,  descending  in  a  shower, 
Now  wake  the  living  world  to  ecstasy  I 

Tet  many  rise,  as  they  lie  down  at  even — 

Without  one  thought  of  either  God  or  Heaven. 

SKETCHES  OF  MADEIRA PHYSICAL  FEATURES WINES — CLIMATE CrTY  OF 

rUXOHAL PRIESTS SOCIETY MORALS PEASANTRY MERCHANTS 

POLITICAL  OPINIONS HABITS  OF  THE  LADIES COUKTSHIPS OUR  PART- 
ING AND  FAREWELL. 

The  island  of  Madeira  is  full  of  marvel  and  ro- 
mance. It  was  thrown  up  into  this  breathing  world 
by  some  volcanic  convulsion  ;  it  was  discovered  by  a 
wandering  love-adventure  ;  its  every  aspect  is  one  of 
wildness  and  beauty  ;  and  its  wines  prompt  the  most 
rich  and  unearthly  dreams.  There  is  nothing  about 
it  that  has  the  smallest  cast  of  sameness,  except  its 
climate  ;  and  that  could  hardly  be  improved  by  any 
chano-es  wider  than   the   slio-lit  vibrations   throusrh 

(D  O  O 

which  it  passes,  and  which  are  fall  of  softness  and 
vitality.  It  is  indeed  a  fairy  land, — the  paradise  of 
the  Atlantic, — the  gem  of  the  ocean.     But  I  will  look 


wnSTES   OF  MADEIRA.  93 

at  some  of  the  more  marked  and  discriminating  fea- 
tures of  this  singular  island. 

Its  southern  coast  descends  in  easy  and  green  de- 
clivities to  the  sea.  These  warm  slopes  are  covered 
with  the  choicest  vineyards ;  the  vine  seems  to  reel 
under  its  purple  burden.  Where  the  ascent  is  so 
steep  as  to  render  it  necessary,  it  is  thrown  off  into 
parapets,  which  may  be  seen  rising  above  each  other 
in  a  lengthened  series.  So  precious  is  this  southern 
exposure,  that  where  there  is  no  native  soil,  the  rock 
is  covered  with  earth  brought  from  a  distance  with 
great  labor  and  expense.  The  wines  of  these  vine- 
yards, for  richness  of  body,  deliciousness  of  flavor, 
and  immunity  from  injury  by  time  and  indifferent 
treatment,  are  not  equalled  in  the  world.  Who  has 
not  seen  the  hospitable  host  half  in  a  rapture,  as  he 
bade  his  delighted  guests  fill  their  glasses  from  a 
little  of  the  "  old  south  side"  left  him  by  some  worthy 
ancestor  ?  But  "  who  hath  redness  of  eyes  ? — they 
that  tarry  long  at  the  wine." 

The  northern  shore  of  the  island  rises  from  the 
wave  in  a  bold,  elevated  range  of  rock  ;  but  what  it 
gains  in  majesty  it  loses  in  other  respects.  The  vine 
is  inferior  to  its  sister  of  the  south ;  and,  as  if  to  pun- 
ish it  for  its  want  of  sweetness,  instead  of  being  sup- 
ported by  fine  trellis-work  of  cane,  it  is  left  to  climb 
up  some  bramble  or  reluctant  tree,  as  it  can ;  and 
then,  after  all  its  best  efforts,  is  still  more  deeply  pun- 
ished by  being  worked  up  into  brandy.     Sometimes, 


0-i  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


indeed,  it  has  the  good  fortune  to  be  removed  in  its 
infancy  to  the  south  side  ;  and  then  it  never  fails  to 
secure  affection  and  esteem. 

The  centre  of  the  island  has  the  Curral  and  the 
magnificent  heights  which  surround  it,  and  which  are 
filled  with  gushing  fountains  that  send  their  laughing 
waters  in  every  direction  to  the  shore.  Every  cliff, 
and  chasm,  and  cascade,  has  around  it  the  deep 
shadows  of  some  indigenous  wood, — the  mystery  of 
some  romantic  legend, — the  despair  of  a  lover's  leap, 
— or  the  yielding  affections  of  beauty,  flying  from  the 
stern  mandates  of  parentah  authority. 

The  climate  is  one  of  unvarying  mildness  and  sa- 
lubrity :  it  is  a  continual  spring  with  its  fruits,  and 
flowers,  and  fragrant  breath.  This  uniformity  of 
temperature  is  one  of  its  most  charming  features : 
you  are  never  oppressed  with  heat ;  never  pinched 
up  with  cold.  The  thermometer  usually  ranges 
from  sixty  to  seventy-five  degrees  ;  and  in  the  great- 
est extremes,  rarely  rises  or  sinks  more  than  five 
degrees  above  or  below  that  agreeable  medium. 
This  place  is  a  favorite  resort  for  invalids,  especially 
those  afflicted  with  pulmonary  comj)laints.  You 
meet  with  them  from  the  most  distant  climes.  The 
atmosphere  has  a  peculiar  elasticity  and  softness ; 
it  flows  through  the  delicate  lungs  with  a  soothing, 
healing  influence. 

The  patient  fears  no  attack  from  any  diseases 
foreign  to  his  own  malady  ;   for  a  malignant  fever  or 


QUINTAS  OF  FUNCHAL.  95 

fatal  epidemic  is  not  known  here.  And  so  entirely 
has  nature  intended  the  place  as  one  of  harmlessness 
as  well  as  health,  that  she  has  excluded  from  it 
every  description  of  venomous  reptiles  and  insects ; 
even  the  musqueto  has  never  been  able  to  obtain  a 
citizenship.  Whether  it  be  owing  to  natural  causes 
or  not,  I  cannot  say ;  but  during  the  time  that  I 
have  been  at  this  island,  I  have  never  once  heard  a 
child  cry.  The  little  nestler  appears  to  be  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  new  world  in  which  he  has  arrived, 
that  he  troubles  no  one  with  the  fretful  calls  of  any 
ungratified  want.  Who  would  not  ventm-e  to  get 
mamed  at  Madeira  ? 

Funchal  is  the  princij^al  town  of  the  island  ;  it  is 
delightfully  situated  on  the  south  side,  and  contains 
a  population  of  about  twenty  thousand.  The  streets 
are  very  narrow,  and  ascending  as  they  lead  fi'om  the 
shore ;  but  they  are  remarkably  clean ;  and  a  refresh- 
ing air  is  given  to  them  by  a  little  runnel  of  water 
that  courses  down  the  centime.  The  buildings  are 
generally  of  two  stories ;  many  of  them  have  iron 
balconies  at  the  windows,  and  a  belvedere  or  tmTet, 
which  is  a  favorite  resort  in  the  evening. 

Some  of  the  wealthier  class,  especially  the  English 
merchants,  have  Quintas — beautiful  summer  resi- 
dences— in  the  vicinity  of  the  town.  Around  these 
fresh  reti'eats  the  vine,  shrubbery,  and  flora  of  the 
island,  aj)pear  to  the  highest  advantage.  The  grape, 
with  its  creeping  tendrils  and  exuberant  foliage,  shad- 


96  SHIP  AND  snoEE. 


ows  the  cool  corridor ;  the  geranium  and  fussia  rise 
in  a  firm  aromatic  wall ;  while  a  vast  variety  of  flow- 
ers bloom  in  their  tasteful  arrangements  :  many  of 
them  are  sweet  exotics,  but  they  seem  here  not  to 
pine  for  their  native  skies. 

Among  the  natives  there  is  very  little  of  that  free, 
social  intercourse,  which  constitutes  so  prominent 
and  pleasing  a  feature  of  society  with  us.  This  re- 
serve is  owing  in  part  to  a  wider  distinction  of  classes, 
but  more  to  a  useless  jealousy.  The  husband  has  little 
confidence  in  the  fidelity  of  his  soft  companion,  and 
the  good  lady  has  just  as  little  in  the  virtuous  educa- 
tion of  her  daughters,  and  the  Argus-eyed  vigilance 
of  both  is  frequently  eluded.  In  the  annual  returns 
of  births  in  the  parish  of  the  cathedral,  the  number 
of  children  espostos,  que  ndo  se  sabe  quern  sdo  seu^ 
pays^  generally  equals  that  of  those  born  ds  legitimo 
matrimonio. 

This  laxness  of  morals  will  always  be  found  where 
a  blind  indiscriminate  jealousy  is  substituted  for  the 
restraints  of  an  enlightened  conscience  and  a  high 
tone  of  public  sentiment.  If  a  parent  wishes  to  keep 
himself  and  the  members  of  his  household  in  the 
paths  of  virtuous  peace  and  happiness,  he  should  in- 
troduce among  them  the  Bible,  and  bind  upon  the 
heart  the  sj)irit  of  its  sanctions  :  this  will  do  a  thou- 
sand times  more  to  aid  his  better  purposes,  than  all  the 
bolts,  and  bars,  and  sleepless  suspicions  that  ever  yet 
embarrassed  the  wandering  or  punished  the  guilty. 


itOEAJLS    A2sD   POLITICS.  97 

Yet  it  is  astonishing  what  a  degree  of  composure 
the  domestic  relations  maintain  here,  notwithstanding 
this  frequent  profanation  of  their  shrine.  It  can  be 
explained  only  on  the  supposition  of  a  want  of  inno- 
cence to  cast  the  first  stone.  Nothing  so  disarms  the 
injured  and  incensed,  as  a  consciousness  that  he  is 
giiilty  himself  of  the  very  crime  which  he  would  ex- 
pose and  punish  in  others. 

The  man  who  requires  fidelity  and  purity  at  home, 
must  not  carry  treason  and  contamination  abroad.  If 
he  breaks  within  the  sanctuary  of  his  neighbor,  it  is 
but  a  just  retribution  that  his  own  hearth  should  be 
profaned.  If  he  wanders  in  search  of  forbidden 
pleasures,  he  must  not  expect  even  his  own  children 
to  escape  the  contagion  of  his  example.  The  censor 
should  be  immaculate  of  the  crime  which  he  con- 
demns in  the  culprit. 

The  more  influential  and  better-informed  portion  of 
the  population  of  Madeira,  are  in  favor  of  a  govern- 
ment based  on  liberal  principles.  They  utterly  loathe 
the  miserable  despotism  to  which  they  are  now  forced 
to  submit.  They  do  not  speak  out,  but  there  is  deep 
thunder  ready  to  rend  the  cloud.  That  the  present 
state  of  things  must  soon  change,  no  one  who  has 
any  knowledge  on  the  subject,  can  doubt.  It  is  not 
in  human  nature  long  to  endure  such  wrongs  mi  re- 
dressed. "Whether  the  condition  of  the  people  will  be 
improved  by  the  success  of  those  who  have  espoused 
the  cause  of  Anna  Maria  remains  to  be  shown  ;  but 

5 


98  SHIP  AND  SHOKE. 


one  thing  is  very  clear,  it  can  hardly  be  rendered 
more  deplorable. 

A  revolution  would  have  taken  place  before  this, 
but  for  the  unaccountable  influence  of  the  clergy 
over  the  lower  orders.  These  men  of  sables,  I  regret 
to  say,  appear  to  have  forgotten  their  high  and  holy 
calling  ;  for,  instead  of  being  interested  in  multij)ly- 
ing  the  sources  of  intelligence  and  sacred  influences, 
they  seem  to  be  engaged  in  suppressing  inquiry,  and 
stifling  the  breaking  light  of  the  age.  They  sym- 
pathize with  every  movement  that  casts  a  new  weight 
upon  the  drooping  energies  of  human  nature.  There 
was  a  great  exultation  among  them  when  it  was  an- 
nounced here,  a  few  days  since,  that  the  administra- 
tion of  Earl  Grey  had  been  overthrown,  and  that  the 
Wellington  party,  with  its  high-toned  aristocratic 
sentiments,  had  been  installed  upon  its  ruins.  The 
aged  bishop,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  thankfulness, 
crept  up  the  stone  steps  of  the  cathedral  three  times, 
at  the  dead  of  night,  upon  the  naked  knee.  But  his 
hopes  were  blasted  in  the  bud ;  Grey  was  soon  re- 
called, and  the  Reform  Bill  passed  in  triumph.  So 
perish  the  ho23es  of  all  who  seek  to  trammel  the 
public  mind. 

The  condition  of  the  peasantry  is  not  one  of  such 
unrelieved  wretchedness  as  its  external  form  would 
intimate.  Who  would  suj^pose  that  the  comfort,  in- 
separable from  the  smallest  portion  of  happiness, 
could  be  found  in  a  cabin  without  a  floor,  or  window. 


DRESS   OF   THE   PEASAITTEY,  99 

or  chimney,  and  where  the  only  edibles  seen  are  the 
yam,  the  pumpkin,  the  batata,  and  a  fish  over  which 
even  the  gull  might  hesitate  ?  Yet  I  found  in  these 
very  cabins,  a  kindness,  contentment,  and  cheerful- 
ness, to  which  the  abodes  of  refinement  and  luxury 
are  often  strangei-s.  Yet  this  smiling  contentment 
was  not  of  that  animal  sort  which  consists  in  an  in- 
sensibility to  its  condition ;  through  all  the  shades  of 
its  deprivations  there  was  a  quick  intelligence,  and  a 
hope  of  better  days,  as  irrepressible  as  the  mountain 
wind. 

The  peasants  are  a  healthy,  muscular,  and  active 
class  of  people.  The  dress  with  the  men  consists  of 
a  conical  cap  thrown  on  the  top  of  the  head,  a  coarse 
linen  shirt  with  an  extremely  narrow  collar  and  flow- 
ing sleeve,  and  which  is  confined,  just  above  the  hip, 
by  the  band  of  a  pair  of  loose  kilts  of  the  same  ma- 
terial, which  in  their  turn  descend  to  the  knee,  and 
are  there  gathered  and  confined,  while  a  short  boot, 
leaving  a  part  of  the  leg  bare,  completes  the  costume. 
The  women  wear  a  similar  cap,  with  short  petticoats, 
and  a  pelerine  which  protects  the  ample  chest  and 
firm-set  shoulders,  and  is  fastened  behind.  Such  a 
dress  has  one  thing  to  recommend  it  at  least,  it  leaves 
nature  free  in  the  discharge  of  her  noble  functions  ; 
there  is  no  narrowing,  pinching,  tortunng  whalebone, 
or  constricting  cordage  about  it — inventions  which 
death  has  introduced  to  flatter  the  fancy  and  fill  the 
grave. 


100  SHIP    AND   SHOEE. 


The  English  ladies  at  Madeira  form  a  small,  but 
intelligent  and  attractive  circle.  He  mild  climate 
appears  to  soften  down  those  more  sanguine  traits  of 
character,  to  which  the  daughters  of  Albion  are  a 
little  prone,  and  which  are  slightly  at  variance  with 
a  perfect  delicacy  and  sweetness  of  disposition.  I 
observed  similar  effects  of  climate,  upon  the  same 
polished  class,  in  the  island  of  Santa  Cruz.  The  cli- 
mate of  England  wants  that  softness  which  breathes 
such  a  mellowed  harmony  through  the  spirit  of  the 
fair  Madeiran.  It  is  this  melody  of  soul  which  im- 
parts such  a  tranquil  and  exquisite  beauty  to  the 
countenance  of  the  gentle  inmate  of  Santa  Clara. 
As  I  saw  this  peerless  one  conversing  with  the  sister 
of  her  heart,  in  her  early  visit,  it  appeared  like  the 
meeting  of  two  light  clouds,  without  an  element  to 
disturb  the  amalgamating  flow. 

A  Madeiran  lady  seldom  walks,  and  very  rarely 
rides  except  in  her  palankeen.  This  is  a  sort  of 
swinging  cradle,  suspended  from  a  slight  pole,  and 
borne  upon  the  shoulders  of  two  men,  and  is  so  closely 
inclosed  by  curtains,  as  entirely  to  secure  the  fair 
occupant  from  observation,  save  now  and  then  when 
her  small  hand  feigns  to  adjust  the  drapery,  or  her 
flashing  eye  finds  some  intended  aperture,  through 
which  it  can  exchange  the  exulting  glance.  In  this 
mode  she  goes  to  mass,  and  makes  morning  calls, 
and  sometimes  steals  a  look  at  one  whom  she  may 
not  yet  openly  encounter. 


MADEIEAJSr   COURTSHIPS.  101 


But  the  matrimonial  preliminaries  are  generally 
conducted  in  a  quite  different  form.  The  gentleman 
passes  in  front  of  the  lady's  house,  with  a  frequency 
which  cannot  escape  her  notice :  if  she  is  pleased 
with  her  out-door  visitor,  she  manifests  her  interest 
by  appearing  at  the  window  of  the  upper  story.  As 
his  attentions  are  continued,  and  her  complacency 
increased,  she  gradually  descends  from  one  loft  to 
another,  until  she  reaches  the  window  of  her  parlor ; 
from  this  she  casts  him  some  flowers,  significant  of 
her  pleasm-e.  At  length  she  permits  him  to  pay  her 
the  passing  compliment  of  the  morning,  while  she 
returns  him  some  word  or  broken  sentence  of  mystical 
and  magical  import ;  but  she  never  permits  him  to 
come  in,  until  he  has  obtained  the  consent  of  her 
parents — and  then  not  to  address  her  a  few  months 
and  run  away — but  to  marry  her ;  and  his  request 
and  their  consent  are  regarded  as  a  bona  fide  contract, 
which  neither  party  can  violate  without  dishonor. 

There  is  something  in  this  mode  of  approximation 
and  union  that  I  like.  It  has  none  of  that  long,  feel- 
ing, sounding,  experimental  process  about  it,  which 
obtains  in  our  country,  and  which  too  frequently  ends 
only  in  the  disappointment  and  mortification  of  one 
of  the  parties, — unless,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  the 
farce  has  a  still  more  tragical  close,  in  a  blighted 
name,  or  a  broken  heart.  Ladies,  who  have  usually 
the  most  to  apprehend  from  these  unmeaning  pas- 
times, should  be  careful  how  they  set  the  example  of 


102  SHIP   AKD  SHORE. 


a  trifling  disingenuousness,  for  if  they  are  honest  and 
sincere,  the  men  will  not  dare  to  play  the  hypocrite. 
I^othing  is  more  calculated  to  make  a  gentleman 
honest,  than  the  presence  of  an  honest  lady. 

I  leave  Madeira  with  regret.  I  could  never  he 
wearied  with  its  climate,  its  scenery,  and  society. 
The  pleasm'es  of  our  visit  here  have  been  much  en- 
hanced by  the  polite  attentions  of  our  vice-consul, 
Mr.  Perrigal.  Though  under  no  obligations  to  be 
peculiarly  civil,  yet  his  time,  his  well-furnished  table, 
and  ample  mansion  were  proffered  to  us  in  that  cor- 
dial, unceremonious  manner,  which  makes  acceptance 
easy,  and  leaves  one  at  liberty  to  come  and  go  at 
pleasm-e.  It  was  a  true  specimen  of  the  politeness 
and  hos]3itality  which-  adorned  the  olden  times,  and 
which  may  be  met  with  occasionally  in  these  later 
days.  ITo  one  can  enjoy  such  favors,  especially  in  a 
strange  land,  without  cherishing,  what  I  know  we  do 
on  the  present  occasion,  the  liveliest  sentiments  of 
gratitude  and  esteem.  We  shall  look  back  to  the 
hospitality  of  this  shore,  as  the  pilgrim  to  the  spark- 
ling waters  of  the  desert  spring. 

But  om^  anchor  is  up — our  sails  are  unfurled — the 
si^ringing  breeze  comes  fast — and  we  must  bid  adieu 
to  Madeira  and  Maria.  Farewell,  thou  wild  and 
beautiful  isle  ! — nothing  lovelier  than  thee  ever  rose 
from  the  ocean,  or  possessed  a  more  captivating  claim 
to  the  first  smile  of  the  morning  star.  Farewell, 
Maria ! — the  veil  never  shadowed  a  sweeter  counte- 


ADIEU  TO  MADEIRA  AJSTD   MAEIA.  103 


nance,  nor  hath  convent-wall  imprisoned  a  purer  heart 
than  thine  !  May  thy  footsteps  soon  be  unconfined 
as  thy  spirit ;  but  whether  free  and  bright,  or  chained 
and  moui-nful,  be  the  lot  of  thy  coming  years,  thou 
wilt  long  be  remembered  by  those  who  never  met 
thee  but  "with  increased  fondness,  and  now  leave  thee 
with  lingering  affection  and  grief ! 

Farewell ! — and  should  we  meet  no  more, 

Except  in  memory's  dream  ; 
Yet  sweet  the  visions  that  restore 

The  semblance  thou  dost  seem. 

Adieu  ! — the  last  that  thou  wilt  hear 

From  him  that  knows  thy  worth  too.  well — 

To  stifle  one  relenting  tear, 

That  mingles  in  this  last — farewell ! 


104  SHIP   AJS^D   SHOEE, 


CHAPTER    VII. 

In  Portugal,  Don  Miguel  holds  the  throne, 
In  spite  of  Pedro  and  his  lovely  daughter ; 

John  Bull  aifects  to  think  the  girl  hath  shown 
The  clearer  title,  and  will  whelm  in  slaughter 

Her  Uncle's  forces,  if  the  Miss,  when  crowned, 

Will  pay  for  every  sailor  shot  and  drowned. 

PASSAGE   FROM   MADEIRA    TO    LISBON SEA-SICKNESS    AS    A    PURGATORIAL 

STATE — SITUATION    OF    A    MEMBER    OF    CONGRESS    AND    OFFICER    OF   THE 

NAVY    COMPARED ROCK    OF    LISBON PILOT TAGUS  —  CHEERING 

ROCKETS — DON    MIGUEL CITY     OF     LISBON — CABRIOLETS POSTILLION 

4 

— MADAM  Julia's  hotel — a  partisan  merchant — alcantra  aque- 
duct   church    of    ST.    ROQUE  —  MOSAICS QUEEN    MARIA    FIRST 

CHURCH    OF    ST.    DOMINGO STATUE     OF    KING    JOSEPH THE    EARTH- 
QUAKE  INQUISITION. 

I  HOPED,  when  we  had  reached  Madeira,  and  quite 
crossed  the  Athmtic,  that  the  horrors  of  sea-sickness 
were  over,  at  least,  for  this  cruise  ;  but  this  persecu- 
ting plague  of  the  ocean  has  come  again,  foul  and 
ghastly  as  Milton's  personification  of  sin  at  the  portals 
of  the  lower  world.  A  heavy  head-sea  is  heaving 
against  our  bows  the  mass  of  its  violent  strength ; 
while  our  ship  shakes  through  her  sides,  like  a  whale 
in  the  convulsions  of  death. 

This  frightful  paroxysm,  were  it  all,  might  be  en- 
dured ;  but  then  to  be  yourself  sickened  beyond  all 
the  powers  of  the  most  nauseating  drugs — to  heave 


PANGS   OF   SEA-SICKNESS.  105 

up,  in  wrenching  throes,  your  very  vitals,  from  their 
bleeding  roots — to  be  battled,  and  bruised,  and  tum- 
bled about,  as  a  loathsome  thing,  which  even  the  sea 
would  spurn  from  its  presence,  and  almost  deny  a 
grave — this  is  enough  to  torture  and  disgust  one  out 
of  life.  I  wonder  not  that  the  sea-sick,  sometimes, 
while  the  power  of  motion  remains,  roll  overboard, 
and  bury  themselves  before  their  time  ;  for  if  suicide 
be  ever  without  guilt,  it  is  where  the  poor  wretch  has 
every  thing  of  death  but  its  insensibility. 

It  is  astonishing  to  me  that  the  ancients,  whose 
imaginations  were  so  prolific  of  woe,  never  intro- 
duced, among  their  Tartarean  torments,  the  horrors 
of  sea-sickness.  For  what  is  the  plight  of  a  wander- 
ing ghost,  or  the  thirst  of  a  Tantalus,  or  the  recoiling 
task  of  Sisyphus,  or  even  the  inexorable  wheel  of 
Ixion,  compared  with  the  condition  of  one  who  is  for- 
ever straining  and  retching  to  heave  up  from  his  in- 
most being,  a  rankling,  broiling,  clinging  nest  of  tor- 
tm'e — and  in  his  agony,  and  faintness,  and  swimming 
delirium,  calling  in  vain  on  death  for  relief!  If  I 
ever  construct  the  machinery  of  a  purgatorial  state,  I 
will  place,  in  the  very  centre  of  its  horrors,  a  rolling 
deck,  strewn  with  the  ghastly  victims  of  sea-sick- 
ness ;  for  the  man  must  be  lost  to  reason  who  could 
think  of  long  endm-ing  such  a  retribution  for  all  the 
pride,  and  pomp,  and  gratification  which  float  be- 
tween the  cradle  and  the  gravp. 

I  wish  those  members  of  Congress  who  think  the 

5* 


106  SHIP    AND    SHOKE. 


officers  of  the  navy  sufficiently  compensated  for  their 
hardships  and  sufferings,  would  just  take  one  voyage 
to  sea.  It  is  an  easy  thing  for  a  man  to  rock  on  to 
Washington,  getting  fifty  cents  a  mile  for  his  smooth 
circuitous  passage, — to  take  there  a  snug  room,  with 
its  cheerful  fire,  easy  chair,  and  sofa, — to  retire  to 
rest  at  what  hour  he  pleases,  without  even  a  mouse  to 
disturb  his  repose, — to  rise  sometime  along  in  the 
morning,  and,  in  gown  and  sli23pers,  sip  a  bowl  of 
coffee  covered  with  rich  cream, — to  ride  up  to  the 
Capitol  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  take  his  arm-chair,  in  a 
hall  warmed  to  a  mild  and  congenial  temperature, — 
to  open  his  mail,  and  peruse  a  sweet  letter  from  his 
affectionate  wife  ;  then  unfold  a  newspaper  and  read 
the  compliments  of  its  editor  on  his  last  speech, — to 
ambulate  in  the  lobby  and  talk  over  a  little  politics, 
while  some  younker  is  addressing  the  House  about 
the  comj)lexion  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon, — to 
ride  home  to  his  quarters  and  dine  on  viands  and 
vegetables,  warm  and  rich,  with  a  bottle  of  old  wine 
to  mellow  them  down, — to  take  a  quiet  siesta,  and  in 
the  evening  go  to  the  drawing-room  and  exchange 
smiles  with  the  ladies, — and,  when  the  session  is 
over,  to  draw  eight  dollars  a  day  for  services  thus 
rendered  the  country ! 

All  this  is  very  easy, — very  comfortable, — quite  a 
desirable  condition, — and  I  would  not  disturb  its 
sweetness  and  serenity  by  one  unnecessary  care. 
But  suppose  this  individual  exchange  situations  with 


JOYS   OF   NAVAL    LIFE.  107 

one  of  us,  and  ascertain  what  om*  amply  compensa- 
ted life  of  gayetj  and  romance  really  is.  Before  he 
di'eams  of  it,  he  is  ordered  off  to  sea,  so  peremptorily 
that  even  a  new-married  wife,  or  one  that  is  dying, 
cannot  plead  him  off  an  hour.  He  hastens  on  board 
his  ship,  looks  back  from  the  hm'rying  wave  to  his 
native  shore,  perhaps  for  the  last  time, — begins  to 
feel  the  deck  of  his  vessel  spinning  around  him,  and 
then  enters  on  the  agonies  of  sea-sickness, — lifts  his 
faint  and  di'ooping  head  from  this  rack  of  straining 
tortm'e,  and  hears  a  thunder-gale  roaring  through  his 
shrouds  like  the  summons  of  the  last  trump, — di'aws 
his  nerveless  form  upon  deck,  and  sees  the  tattered 
fragments  of  a  top-sail  fluttering  on  the  distant  wind, 
or  a  broken  spar  scudding  away  from  his  ship,  like  a 
thief  from  the  gallows : — through  night,  and  tempest, 
and  torrents  from  the  clouds,  he  must  ever  keep  his 
regular  watch,  and  feel  in  all  his  weariness  and  ex- 
haustion that  the  safety  of  the  shij),  and  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  lives  on  board,  are  at  issue  upon  the  wis- 
dom and  vigor  of  his  conduct. 

He  is  thirsty, — calls  for  a  cup  of  water, — strains  a 
liquid  through  his  teeth,  which  has  the  name  of  that 
pure  element,  but  which  ropes  away  from  his  parch- 
ing lips, — he  is  faint,  requu-es  sustenance,  and  thinks 
of  a  bowl  of  milk,  so  soothing  and  innocent,  but  it  is 
far  off  in  some  farmer's  dairy, — he  thinks  of  fruit  and 
vegetables,  those  fresh  things  of  earth,  which  seen 
through  a  sea  atmosphere,  appear  still  more  fresh  and 


108  SHIP    AND   SHOEE. 


tempting,  but  they  too  are  far  away  in  some  market 
which  he  may  never  see  again, — and  so  he  sits  down 
with  a  dry  crust,  and  hacks  away  at  a  piece  of  salt 
junk,  at  which  a  shark,  in  any  remarkable  degree 
fastidious,  would  turn  up  his  nose  and  pass  on. 

While  cruising  around  in  chase  of  pirates,  he  falls 
in  with  a  vessel  just  from  his  own  country,  and  boards 
her  with  the  eager  expectation  of  finding  letters  from 
home,  but  he  finds  only  a  newspaper  or  two,  contain- 
ing a  brief  notice  of  the  death  of  some  esteemed 
friend  or  relative,  and  the  remarks  of  some  members 
of  Cono-ress  on  the  romance  of  his  life  and  the 
prodigality  of  his  pay.  At  length,  from  some  less 
healthy  clime,  he  enters  a  salubrious  port,  but  is  put 
under  a  quarantine  of  forty  days,  and  cannot  even 
get  a  note  to  the  town,  without  having  it  first  steeped 
in  fire  and  brimstone.  This  is  intolerable, — he  weighs 
anchor,  puts  to  sea,  and  in  his  cruise  reaches  another 
port,  and  enters ;  but  the  yellow  fever  or  cholera 
enters  his  ship.  It  is  now  too  late  to  fly,  and  death 
to  remain.  Through  the  wearisome  night,  he  can 
hear  only  the  moaning  of  the  sick,  and  the  passage  of 
the  dead  over  his  ship's  side, — the  fatal  symptoms 
are  upon  him, — he  orders  his  colfin  to  be  made, — 
dictates  a  brief  letter  to  his  wife, — bids  his  messmates 
adieu, — and  dies  ! 

If  there  be  romance  in  such  a  life  as  this,  it  is  not 
that  kind  of  romance  which  takes  one  away  from  the 
toils  and  troubles  of  a  real  world,  into  a  fairy  region 


KOCK  OF  LISBON.  109 


of  perpetual  smile  and  simshine ;  and  if  there  be  a 
prodigal  compensation  allowed  to  such  a  life,  it  is  not 
that  prodigality  of  reward  which  enables  one  to  pro- 
vide for  the  wants  of  his  widow  and  orphans.  The 
testament  of  an  officer  in  the  navy,  who  has  no  means 
of  accumulation  except  his  pay,  has  usually  as  little 
gold  at  its  disposal  as  the  last  article  in  the  will  of  a 
Palestine  pilgrim.  He  can  bequeath  his  good  name 
— the  memory  of  his  virtues — and  it  is  only  to  be 
regretted,  that  these  cannot  contain  the  essential  ele- 
ments of  life. 

Ye  that  are  on  land,  leave  not  the  safe,  substantial 
earth  ;  and  when  the  pitiless  storm  raves  around  your 
snug  dwelling,  turn  a  thought  to  the  poor  sailor,  tost 
on  this  howling  waste,  with  only  a  plank  between 
him  and  eternity ;  and  in  your  evening  devotions, 
commend  him  to  the  protection  of  that  Being  who 
"  rides  on  the  tempest  and  directs  the  storm,"  and 
who  can  say  to  the  chainless  ocean,  "  Hitherto  shalt 
thou  come,  and  no  further,  and  here  shall  thy  proud 
waves  be  staid." 

It  was  past  mid-day  when  the  rock  of  Lisbon  broke 
from  a  mass  of  clouds  that  hung  densely  over  our 
larboard-bow.  There  was  nothing  remarkably  bold 
or  towering  in  the  aspect  of  this  rock,  and  yet  to  me 
it  was  full  of  thrilling  interest.  It  was  my  first  glance 
of  Europe, — the  first  object  seen  in  that  old  world, 
whose  nations  had  risen  to  power  and  splendor,  and 
gone  down  to  their  mighty  sepulchres,  while  America 


110  SHIP    AND    SHOKE. 

was  yet  a  stranger  to  the  map  of  tlie  globe,  and  be- 
fore it  had  even  floated  on  the  dream  of  a  conjec- 
tm'ino;  Columbus. 

Owing  to  the  faintness  of  the  breeze,  it  was  several 
hours  before  we  could  require  or  obtain  a  pilot.  A 
signal-gmi  at  length  brought  one  on  board ;  but  he 
was  a  meager,  narrow,  and  ghastly  looking  fellow ;  if 
old  Charon  be  dead,  he  should  be  his  successor ;  for 
he  would  appear  much  more  appropriately  occupied 
in  ferrjang  the  dead,  than  piloting  the  living.  He 
at  first  refused  to  take  us  in  that  evening,  declaring 
the  night  too  near  at  hand,  and  the  wind*  from 
the  wrong  point  of  the  compass ;  but  threw  out  a 
blunt  hint,  as  he  passed  below,  that  a  glass  of  brandy 
would  enable  him  to  overcome  these  obstacles. 

Thus  braced  and  conciliated,  he  retm'ned  to  the 
deck,  ordered  sail  to  be  made,  and  manifested  the 
craft  of  his  profession  by  an  aifected  escape  of  dif- 
ficulties which  never  existed,  and  an  exhibition  of 
knowledge  for  which  there  was  no  possible  demand. 

Moving  up  the  Tagus,  we  found  the  U.  S.  sloop-of- 
war  John  Adams,  commanded  by  Capt.  Storer,  lying 
at  anchor,  in  quarantine.  The  crew,  as  we  passed, 
gave  us  a  hearty  cheer, — a  welcome  which  our  tars 
cordially  returned.  We  came  to  anchor  oj)posite  the 
royal  j)alace  Ajuda,  about  two  miles  below  the  town. 

The  Tagus  is  a  noble  river,  deep  and  broad,  and 
its  wave  has  that  rich  yellow  tinge,  which  has  made 
poets  sing  of  it,  as  ever  "  rolling  its  golden  sand." 


SUBURBS   OF   LISBON.  Ill 


The  heights  on  tlie  right  bank,  as  you  look  up  the 
stream,  are  broken  into  conical  hills,  and  covered 
with  a  profusion  of  quintas  and  villages ;  on  the  left 
stands  Lisbon,  coming  down  with  its  white  dwellings, 
churches,  and  convents,  on  an  easy  sweep,  to  the 
lapping  waters. 

Aromid  the  quay  shot  up  a  forest  of  masts  bearing 
the  flags  of  different  nations ;  while  a  little  more  re- 
mote, reposed  at  this  time  three  ships  of  the  line  and 
two  frigates,  under  the  "  proud  ensign  of  Britannia ;" 
nearer  to  us  lay  two  frigates,  bearing  the  tri-colored 
banner  of  chivalric  France ;  and  two  ships  of  the 
same  class,  with  the  white  field  and  central  crown  of 
the  Eng  of  Portugal ;  while  the  light  feluccas  of  the 
natives  were  in  all  dii-ections  cutting  the  broad 
stream. 

As  the  shadows  of  evening  deepened  over  us,  the 
frequent  rocket  was  seen  darting  through  its  pathway 
of  flame,  and  now  and  then  a  long,  loud  cheer  came 
floating  on  the  wind.  These  demonstrations  of  pleas- 
m-e  were  in  honor  of  our  arrival,  and  conveyed  a 
compliment  equally  unusual  and  unexpected.  It 
seems  we  are  in  great  favor  with  the  multitude,  who 
threw  up  their  caps  for  Don  Miguel ;  this  is  in  con- 
sequence of  having  so  early  recognized  their  king, 
but  our  acknowledgments  of  this  kind,  if  rightly 
understood,  would  go  but  little  way  in  establishing  a 
man's  title  to  the  crown.  We  never  sift  the  question 
of  right,  but  give  in  om-  diplomatic  adhesion  to  what- 


112  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


ever  may  be  on  the  throne,  whether  it  may  be  Don 
Miguel  or  the  devil.  This  is  undoubtedly  om'  true 
policy ;  for  if  we,  with  our  republican  education, 
were  to  attempt  to  settle  the  question  of  legitimacy, 
we  should  soon  find  ourselves  in  the  predicament  of 
the  school-boy,  who  attempted  to  solve  a  problem  by 
the  rule  of  three,  without  having  first  made  himself 
familiar  with  the  simple  rules  of  multiplication  and 
division. 

ITo  one  left  the  ship  last  evening.  This  morning, 
at  an  early  hour,  Mr,  C,  and  myself  landed  down  the 
stream,  at  Belem  Castle — an  old,  feebly  mounted  for- 
tress, and  took  a  cabriolet  for  Lisbon.  Every  thing 
around  convinced  us  at  once  that  we  were  in  a  foreign 
land,  and  among  a  people  where  the  march  of  im- 
provement had  long  been  pausing.  The  vehicle  in 
which  we  were  trundled  along  was  one  of  those  rude 
contrivances  which  might  be  classed  among  the  first 
triumphs  of  civilization.  It  was  a  clumsy  affair, 
moving  on  two  heavy  wheels,  with  a  massive  body, 
hanging  stiffly  down  to  the  creaking  axle,  and  a 
ponderous  top,  supported  by  rough  iron  stanchions, 
with  a  window  on  each  side,  and  a  thick  movable 
leather  curtain  in  front.  It  was  drawn  by  two  old 
worn-out  horses,  moving  abreast ;  one  in  the  long 
beamy  thills,  the  other  outside,  mounted  by  a  postil- 
lion, whose  appearance  was  quite  in  keeping  with  his 
charge. 

His  large  dingy  hat  was  cocked  up  closely  over 


BUENOS   ATRES.  113 


each  ear — ^his  straight,  pendulous  cue  hung  far  down 
his  shoulders — his  coat  was  pinched  and  high  in  the 
waist,  while  its  little  narrow  iiaps  struggled  hard  to 
reach  the  stern  of  his  saddle ;  and  his  japanned  boots, 
armed  with  a  pair  of  enormous  spurs,  mounted  so 
high  up  the  lank  leg  as  to  let  the  knee  well  into  the 
gaping  top.  His  whip,  which  made  np  for  the  brevity 
of  its  stock  in  the  length  of  its  lash,  he  ever  cracked 
ahead  of  his  animals  ;  and  on  such  an  occasion,  he 
usually  cocked  his  eye  around  to  us,  with  that  pe- 
culiar look  in  which  one  expresses  his  sense  of  the 
dignity  and  importance  of  his  occupation. 

On  our  asking  him,  if  these  were  the  only  vehicles 
used  here,  he  replied,  with  rather  an  offended  air, 
"  It  is  the  only  one  in  which  a  gentleman  rides,"  and 
then  gave  his  whip  another  crack  far  ahead.  So, 
beinar  satisfied  our  establishment  was  not  as  ridicu- 
lous  in  the  eyes  of  others  as  our  own,  we  moved  on. 
Passing  through  a  long  series  of  narrow,  dirty  streets, 
with  here  and 'there  a  huge  convent  towering  above 
the  visible  poverty  below,  we  reached  Buenos  Ayres, 
a  suburb  of  Lisbon,  possessing  some  claims  to  neat- 
ness and  comfort. 

We  here  called  on  our  Charge  d'Affairs,  Mr.  Brent, 
whose  long  and  successful  services  have  given  him 
an  eminent -station  in  the  confidence  of  his  country. 
He  is  almost  the  only  diplomatic  agent  who  has  not 
been  displaced  by  the  spirit  of  change  that  has  of 
late  fallen  upon  our  public  counsels.    Having  de- 


114  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


livered  the  dispatches  of  our  government,  and  made 
a  few  inquiries  respecting  the  political  features  of 
Portugal,  we  took  leave,  and  jogged  along  into  the 
city,  meeting  in  almost  every  street  an  armed  patrol, 
who  were  universally  civil  on  detecting  our  American 
uniform. 

Om*  next  call  was  on  our  Consul,  or  rather  his 
agent — the  Consul  himself  being  "  absent  at  Paris. 
Among  other  inquiries,  we  made  one  for  the  most 
convenient  and  respectable  hotel ;  and  were  recom- 
mended to  Madam  Julia's,  as  possessing  by  far  the 
highest  claims.  So,  dismissing  our  knight  of  the 
cabriolet,  we  walked  on  in  search  of  Madam  Julia's 
hotel,  the  Dutch  characteristics  of  which  we  soon 
discovered  in  the  antic  tricks  of  two  monkeys,  and 
the  incessant  prattle  of  a  parrot,  upon  its  porch.  We 
found  our  hostess  a  thick-set,  dumpy,  Dutch  woman, 
with  a  broad,  red  face,  and  a  tongue  equally  voluble 
in  a  vast  many  languages.  She  assured  me,  within 
ten  minutes  after  crossing  her  threshold,  that  she 
could  speak  the  dead  languages  as  well  as  the  living. 

I  felt  no  disposition  to  test  her  laiowledge  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  for  I  was  already  overwhelmed  with  her 
torrent  of  broken  English.  I  told  her  we  would 
thank  her  for  our  dinners  soon  as  practicable ;  but 
before  I  had  finished  my  brief  request,  she  broke  in, 
by  asking  if  I  could  speak  the  Hebrew — "  that  first 
great  language  of  all  the  world."  I  replied  by  re- 
questing our  dinner,  as  we  were  in  haste.    She  sug- 


IVIEAGEE  DINNEE.  115 


gestecl  that  I  might,  perhaps,  speak  the  Arabic — 
"  that  lano-uao-e  in  which  Mahomet  wrote  the  Koran, 
— an  excellent  language,  but  a  bad  book."  I  insisted 
on  the  dinner  first,  and  a  discussion  of  the  relative 
merits  of  the  different  languages  afterwards.  This 
partially  satisfied  her,  and  she  waddled  off  thi-ough 
a  large  oaken  door  towards  the  kitchen. 

In  about  an  hour,  which  we  lounged  away  upon  a 
huge  sofa,  covered  with  venerable  dust,  our  dinner 
was  formally  announced ;  and  though  neither  of  us 
ever  had  the  character  of  being  a  gourmand,  yet  we 
were  a  little  vexed  upon  discovering  on  the  table,  in 
meats,  only  a  little  poor  boiled  chicken  ;  in  vegeta- 
bles, only  a  plate  of  hard  peas ;  and  in  fruits,  only 
three  or  four  sour  oranges.  But  the  time  even  occu- 
pied in  making  away  with  these  meager  ti-ifles,  was 
evidently  very  long  to  Madam  Julia,  who  was  im- 
patiently anticipating  the  classical  discussion  at  its 
close.  iN'or  could  she  wholly  restrain  herself  till  that 
time ;  but  as  we  were  picking  some  bone  of  the 
chicken,  or  sucking  the  acidity  from  an  orange,  re- 
marked upon  its  peculiarities  in  some  strange,  un- 
known dialect. 

On  rising  fi:-om  the  table,  we  asked  for  our  bill. 
"  Did  you  say,"  returned  om*  hostess,  "  that  the  lan- 
guages spoken  now-a-days,  are  to  be  compared  to 
those  spoken  by  the  ancients  V  "We  replied,  "  We 
are  now,  madam,  on  our  way  to  the  very  place  where 
the  ancients  lived,  where  we  shall  pick  up  all  the 


116  SHIP   AI^D   SHORE. 


little  notions  we  can  respecting  them  ;  and  upon  our 
return,  should  we  call  at  Lisbon,  will  tell  you  all  we 
can  gather  about  the  matter,  and  in  the  mean,  we 
will  thank  you  for  our  bill."  "My  charge,"  she 
murmured,  "  is  six  dollars  ;  Lord  G.  has  lately  been 
paying  me  two  guineas  a  day  for  my  table  and  some 
instructions  in  the  languages."  We  handed  her  the 
moderate  sum  demanded,  and  bade  her  good-bye, 
while  she  followed  us  quite  out  the  door,  requesting 
us  not  to  forget  the  literary  hotel  of  Madam  Julia. 

The  next  place  at  which  we  called,  was  the  store 
of  a  Portuguese  merchant,  where  we  inquired  for  a 
few  ready  articles ;  but  before  they  were  handed 
down,  the  keeper  drawing  close  to  us  whispered  in 
our  ear,  "  Can  you  tell  me  any  thing  about  the  move- 
ments of  Don  Pedro  ?"  We  replied,  "  At  our  last 
advices,  he  was  about  embarking  from  St.  Michel's 
with  his  collected  forces."  "  And  how  strong  does 
he  number?"  he  whispered  again.  "VYe  told  him, 
"  From  our  best  information,  about  seven  or  eight 
thousand."  His  countenance  brightened.  "  And  how 
long  do  you  think  before  he  will  reach  here?"  he 
continued  to  whisper.  "We  observed,  "  The  wind  is 
now  very  fresh  and  fair,  and  for  matter  of  that,  he 
may  be  here  in  a  few  days."  "  And  have  you  come 
to  aid  Miguel?"  he  inquired  earnestly.  "No,  that 
is  no  part  of  our  business  here."  He  grasped  us  by 
the  hand,  and  expressed  in  his  look  a  satisfaction, 
which  language  could  not  convey.    "We  asked  him, 


EFFECTS   OF  DESPOTISM.  117 

"  How  stand  the  political  parties  in  Lisbon  ?"  He  at 
first  clapped  his  fiiiger  on  his  lip,  and  after  a  pause, 
breathed  half  audibly,  "  Very  well  for  Pedro."  We 
inquired,  "  How  are  the  more  wealthy,  intelligent,  and 
influential  classes  affected."  He  whispered  mourn- 
fully, "  Those  who  have  not  been  put  to  death,  are  in 
banishment  or  the  dungeon." 

"We  purchased  our  articles,  and  bade  him  adieu ; 
congratulating  ourselves  that  we  were  born  in  a  land 
where  it  is  not  ti-eason  for  a  man  to  speak  his  politi- 
cal sentiments.  How  miserable  must  be  the  condi- 
tion of  that  country,  where  one  man  can  tie  up  the 
very  breath  of  millions  !  Freedom  is  the  sacred  birth- 
right of  man,  and  yet  he  is  plundered  of  it  by  every 
petty  despot  that  can  reach  a  throne  ! 

Mr.  C,  with  myself,  took  a  cabriolet  this  morning 
■to  ride  out  and  see  a  celebrated  section  of  the  Alcan- 
tra  acpieduct.  Midshipman  L.  being  present,  we 
pressed  him  to  take  a  seat  with  us ;  for  these  primeval 
machines  can  easily  accommodate  three,  especially  of 
our  dimensions.  This  introduction  of  a  third  person 
roused  the  indignation  of  the  postillion  ;  he  jumped 
from  his  saddle,  and  lustily  swore  he  would  not  stir 
an  inch.  We  remained  firm  in  our  seats,  waiting  for 
his  choler  to  subside.  After  half  an  hour  or  so,  he 
grumly  remounted  and  moved  off  in  a  slow  walk ; 
but  even  this  was  not  gained  till  he  had  been  severely 
rebuked  by  one  of  the  police,  and  we  had  promised 
an  additional  compensation. 


118  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


The  pertinacions  obstinacy  of  these  men  is  incredi- 
ble. Two  of  our  officers  sent  the  other  morning  from 
Madam  Julia's  hotel  for  a  cabriolet,  and  after  wait- 
ing an  hour  and  a  half  without  seeing  any  signs 
of  its  coming,  commenced  their  excm'sion  on  foot. 
Soon  after  their  departure  the  vehicle  arrived.  The 
postillion  was  informed  by  the  hostess  that  the  gen- 
tlemen, wearied  out  with  waiting,  had  left,  and  would 
not  return  till  evening  ;  but  he  remained  finii  at  the 
door,  declaring  lie  would  not  stir  till  he  had  been 
j)aid  for  his  services.  Through  the  hot  day  he 
lounged  about  his  horses,  knocking  oif  the  flies,  and 
at  dusk,  when  the  officers  returned,  peremptorily  de- 
manded his  hire  for  the  day. 

For  the  sake  of  peace,  they  offered  him  half  the 
price  demanded,  which  he  indignantly  refused,  and 
remained  at  the  door  till  ten  at  night.  Early  the 
next  morning  he  took  his  stand  at  the  door  again, 
and  now  demanded  full  pay  for  his  second  day's 
services.  He  remained  there  till  noon,  when,  upon 
Madam  Julia's  suggesting  that  as  she  sent  for  the 
cabriolet  she  might  be  held  responsible  for  its 
charges,  the  affair  was  settled  by  paying  the  whole 
price  demanded. 

To  return  to  our  team.  Our  sulky  postillion  would 
not  move  out  of  a  walk.  "We  threatened  to  leave 
him,  and  take  it  on  foot ;  but  it  had  no  effect.  I 
menaced  his  head  with  a  massive  stone  ;  but  he  sat 
on  his  saddle  with  the  most  fixed,  imperturbable  ob- 


AQUEDUCT  OF  ALCANTEA.  119 


stinacy.  I  have  no  doubt  lie  would  have  been  killed, 
or  "made  desperate  fight,"  sooner  than  put  his  horses 
into  a  trot. 

This  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  mulish  obstinacy  of 
an  offended  Portuguese.  When  he  can  have  his  own 
way,  he  is  remarkably  kind  and  conciliating;  but 
when  thwarted,  nothing  can  appease  or  coerce  him. 
He  is  ardent  in  love,  and  terrible  in  resentment. 
Take  him  in  a  good  humor,  and  you  may  coax  him 
out  of  his  life ;  but,  offended  with  you,  he  would  see 
you  sink  to  forty  graves  without  stirring  a  hand  for 
your  rescue. 

"We  at  last  reached  the  object  of  our  curiosity,  the 
great  aqueduct  of  Alcantra.  It  is  truly  a  magnificent 
work,  stretching  across  a  deep  valley  of  three-quar- 
ters of  a  mile,  and  sustained  by  thirty-five  arches,  the 
centre  one  of  which  is  two  hundred  and  seventy  feet 
in  height — the  highest  arch  in  the  world.  The  aque- 
duct itself  has  the  appearance  of  a  majestic,  substan- 
tial gallery,  running  along  high  in  air,  with  its  white 
walls,  open  windows,  close  roof,  and  frequent  turrets ; 
while  the  water  sweeps  through  it  in  two  sparkling 
currents,  leaving  a  space  between  where  three  may 
move  abreast.  To  the  outside  of  each  wall  is  attached 
another  ample  walk,  defended  by  a  balustrade,  and 
supported  upon  the  lofty  arches. 

The  stupendous  character  of  this  work  would  lead 
one  to  suppose  that  the  Portuguese,  at  the  time  of  its 
construction,  must  have  been  ignorant  of  the  fii'st 


120  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


principles  of  hydraulics ;  but  this  was  not  the  case. 
The  J  were  perfectly  aware  that  water  will  recover  its 
level,  and  that  an  aqueduct  laid  under  the  surface  of 
the  ground,  would  answer  every  essential  purpose  of 
one  reposing  on  the  most  sublime  sweep  of  arches. 
But  they  must  have  something  that  will  strike  the 
eye — something  that  will  please  the  vanity  of  the 
multitude — something  lofty  and  monumental.  I  was 
informed  by  a  very  intelligent  gentleman,  who  has 
long  been  a  resident  in  Portugal,  that  if  this  nation 
were  now  to  construct  an  extended  aqueduct,  in- 
stead of  using  simj)le  pipes  placed  in  the  earth,  they 
would  have  it  run  from  one  height  to  another, 
upon  a  magnificent  range  of  arches.  But  a  nation, 
like  an  individual,  will  have  its  age,  decrepitude,  and 
folly. 

On  our  return,  we  stopped  at  the  Church  of  St. 
Roque,  where  we  discharged  our  sulky  postillion  and 
his  concern  with  three  dollars.  We  found  a  priest  at 
the  porch  ready  to  wait  upon  us.  He  conducted  us 
slowly  up  through  a  dense  multitude  kneeling  in  the 
nave — for  it  was  some  saint's  day — to  a  small  chapel 
dedicated  to  John  the  Baptist.  The  embellish- 
ments of  this  sacred  alcove,  adorned  by  the  treasury 
of  John  Fifth,  display  a  rich  profusion  of  precious 
marble,  amethyst,  porphyry,  jasper,  lapis-lazuli,  and 
verd-antique.  But  the  objects  of  greatest  interest 
and  admiration  are  three  pictures,  representing  the 
Annunciation,  the  Baptism,  and  the  Pentecost,  in  ex- 


CHURCH   OF  QLTEEN    MAEIA.  121 

quisite  mosaic.  They  have  a  softness  and  warmth  of 
coloring,  a  melting  delicacy  of  tint  and  shade,  which 
I  did  not  sujopose  it  possible  for  this  kind  of  work,  in 
its  highest  perfection,  to  reach.  Three  huge  candle- 
sticks of  solid  silver  stand  in  front  of  the  jewelled  al- 
tar ;  and  it  is  astonishing  that  they  have  escaped  be- 
ing coined,  in  the  present  disasters  and  poverty  of 
Portugal.  The  rest  of  the  church  has  nothing  re- 
markably attractive  or  imposing.  Handing  our  priest 
a  crown  for  his  politeness,  we  took  our  leave. 

Our  next  resting-place  was  in  the  church  of  Cora- 
cao  de  Jesus,  built  by  Queen  Maria  First,  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  of  small  dimensions,  and  surmounted 
by  a  dome.  This  crazy  queen  believed  she  had  come 
in  actual  possession  of  the  heart  of  our  Saviour  ;  and 
reared  this  church  as  a  monumental  shrine' befitting 
the  last  deposit  of  this  precious  trust.  The  pope  dis- 
countenanced this  article  in  the  creed  of  her  religious 
insanity ;  but  as  he  could  not  "  minister  to  a  mind 
diseased,"  permitted  her  to  indulge  her  fanatical 
whims.  It  is  not  strange  that  in  a  church,  where 
every  thing  spiritual  is  materialized,  and  embodied, 
and  worshi2)ped,  that  these  wild  aberrations  from 
truth  and  reason  should  occur.  It  is  a  greater  won- 
der that  heaven  itself  is  not  mapped  in  some  quarter 
of  the  globe,  and  laid  down  to  feet  and  inches  in 
fixed  lines.  But  pluck  the  beam  from  thine  own 
eye. 

Our  next  call  was  at  the  chm-ch  of  St.  Domingo, 

6 


122  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


which,  in  architectural  display,  is  perhaps  the  finest 
in  Lisbon.  The  walls  with  their  marble  pilasters,  un- 
broken by  a  gallery,  and  sweeping  up  to  the  lofty 
ceiling,  have  an  imposing  effect.  In  the  centre  of 
the  nave  is  a  representation  of  our  Saviour  fainting 
under  the  cross.  Of  the  many  who  came  and  went, 
while  we  were  there,  most  of  them  kneeled  and  kissed 
the  foot  of  this  statue.  The  paintings  over  the  altars 
are  some  of  them  happily  conceived,  and  executed 
with  a  tolerable  degree  of  taste.  In  this  church  the 
royal  family  attend  mass,  which  they  do  once  a  year, 
on  Corpus  Christi  day.  Their  piety  cannot,  there- 
fore, be  said  to  be  of  the  most  ostentatious  kind ; 
though  the  extensive  orchestra  is  now  being  fitted  up 
for  this  jjnnual  occasion.  Kings  and  their  subjects, 
masters  ajid  slaves,  find  a  common  level  in  two 
places — the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  the  grave. 

The  next  place  at  which  we  brought  up,  to  use  a 
professional  term,  was  the  Placo  de  Commercio,  in 
the  centre  of  which  stands  the  equestrian  statue  of 
King  Joseph.  The  attitude  of  the  statue  is  exces- 
sively extravagant :  it  looks  like  ambition  overleaping 
itself;  and  the  clumsy  allegorical  figures,  grouped 
around  and  beneath  the  feet  of  the  horse,  add  to  this 
Hotspm*  expression.  I  wonder  an  equestrian  statue 
cannot  be  tolerated,  without  having  the  fore-feet  of 
the  charger  raised  as  high  as  if  he  were  attempting 
to  leap  into  the  moon.  Why  not  put  him  on  his  four 
feet,  where  nature  puts  him.     But  if  this  will  not  do. 


THE  EASTIIQUAKE.  123 


let  liiin  paw  the  ground ;  and  if  any  thing  more  is 
necessary  to  express  his  impetuosity,  let  him  foam  at 
the  impatient  bit;  but  do  not  heave  up  his  fore  parts, 
till  you  are  in  the  painful  apprehension  that  he  will 
land  on  his  stern  and  crush  his  rider.  This  is  not  a 
horse  rushing  into  battle,  or  out  of  it ;  nor  is  it  one 
lightly  prancing  in  the  gay  tournament. 

From  this  place  we  rambled  to  that  section  of  the 
city  which  was  most  disastrously  visited  by  the  earth- 
quake. The  remains  of  temples,  palaces,  and  towers 
still  totter  over  the  fatal  spot;  yet  amid  these  ghastly 
ruins,  where  every  thing  seems  to  portend  disaster, 
many  an  elegant  dwelling  has  been  reared,  where 
hearts  are  now  gay  over  the  graves  of  their  fathers. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  felicitous  provision  of  our  nature,  that 
we  can  feel  secure  and  be  happy,  where  others  have 
perished  unwarned.  The  earth  itself  is  but  one  vast 
sepulchre ;  every  thing  that  regales  the  taste,  or  an- 
imates the  eye,  springs  from  corruption.  The  very 
breeze,  that  is  music  on  our  ear,  has  been  loaded 
with  the  groans  of  millions.  We  should  recollect,  in 
our  exulting  pride,  that  we  are  not  exempt  from  the 
laws  of  mortality,  or  that  gloomy  forgetfulness  which 
hovers  over  the  realms  of  death.  Though  we  should 
sink  in  the  ingulfing  shock  of  the  earthquake,  or  the 
burning  flood  of  a  volcano,  yet  thousands  will  live 
and  smile  amid  the  frightful  monuments  of  our  ruin. 
The  sounds  of  merriment  and  revelry  have  gone  up 
for  ages  over  the  tombs  of  Herculaneum. 


124  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


Tlie  catastrophe  which  destroyed  the  fairest  j)ortion 
of  Lisbon,  would  have  been  less  destructive  of  life, 
had  the  population  remained  in  their  dwellings,  or 
fled  to  some  more  open  places,  instead  of  rushing 
into  their  churches.  These  huge  piles  were  the  first 
to  fall,  and  the  escape  of  a  solitary  individual  could 
have  been  little  less  than  miraculous.  If  one  is  to 
die,  it  may  be  desirable,  perhaps,  to  undergo  the 
dread  event  within  the  sacred  associations  of  the 
sanctuary.  But  if  one  wishes  to  escape  destruction, 
in  an  hour  when  his  own  dwelling  begins  to  heave  to 
and  fro,  it  is  the  last  refuge  he  should  seek.  Yet  in 
all  Catholic  countries,  the  first  impulse  is  to  get 
within  the  pictured  presence  of  a  patron  saint,  or  of 
the  blessed  Virgin,  as  if  these  dependent  beings  had 
the  power  to  suspend  the  action  of  an  earthquake. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  trifle  with  the  sentiment 
which  expresses  itself  in  this  form  ;  ignorance,  unless 
it  will  be  wilful,  is  not  a  crime.  But  the  disaster 
which  befell  this  city,  in  all  the  ruin  of  its  work,  had 
one  alleviating  feature,  it  sunk  the  Inquisition — that 
upper  hell  of  intolerant  bigotry  and  fanatical  ven- 
geance !  Let  a  man's  creed  rest  between  his  con- 
science and  his  God.  Give  him  all  the  lights  of  in- 
formation in  your  power,  but  do  not  torture  him  into 
a  confession  of  your  particular  tenets.  There  are  no 
engines  of  belief  in  heaven,  nor  in  the  world  of  un- 
told sorrows.  The  arch-apostate  finds  no  redeeming 
creed  awaiting  his  burning  signature.     Compulsion 


LISBON    HOTEL   AND   HOSTESS.  125 


in  a  man's  faith  is  like  force  in  his  will,  they  both 
violate  our  most  sacred  rights ;  and  the  assent  which 
they  compel  is  as  destitute  of  virtuous  merit  as  the 
yielding  of  one's  purse  to  a  robber.  Such  violence 
will  always  in  the  end  react  on  its  source — the  rob- 
ber will  be  sent  to  the  gallows,  and  the  inquisitor  to 
the  devil. 

But  enough  of  this  rambling.  "We  called  at  Madam 
Julia's  at  six  o'clock,  where  we  had  bespoken  a  din- 
ner, and  sat  down  to  a  plate  of  pea-soup,  a  slice  of 
broiled  veal,  and  a  few  poor  oranges ;  for  which  we 
paid  eight  dollars.  It  was  in  vain  to  question  the 
equity  of  her  bill,  unless  you  were  prepared  to  carry 
on  the  dispute  in  aU  the  languages  into  which  our 
great  mother  tongue  was  split  at  the  tower  of  Babel. 
If  it  be  wondered  why  we  patronized  Madam  Julia 
iu  her  barren  table  and  exorbitant  demands,  the  true 
answer  is,  that  there  is  not  a  respectable  hotel  in  all 
Lisbon.  Hers,  with  its  monkeys,  parrot,  and  con- 
fusion of  countless  dialects,  is  after  all  the  most 
decent.  She  followed  us  again  quite  out  the  door, 
descanting  on  the  profusions  of  her  table,  the  beauty 
of  her  parrot,  and  the  freshness  of  the  classics,  and 
enjoining  it  upon  us  not  to  forget  her  and  her  hotel. 

Forget  thee  ? — dear  woman  ! — not  till  all  the  dead 
languages  have  been  forgotten,  and  the  living  have 
ceased  to  be  spoken! — not  till  a  chicken  that  has 
perished  of  inanition  be  nutritious  as  one  fattened  at 
the  tray ! — not  till  an  orange,  eaten  up  of  its  own 


12G  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


acidity,  be  palatable  as  one  with  its  sweet  juices 
gushing  through  its  yellow  rind!  Forget  thee? 
never ! — 

I'll  think  of  thee,  thy  parrot,  and  hotel, 

Whene'er  I  see  a  lank,  voracious  shark, 
Darting  about  all  day  from  swell  to  swell, 

And  missing  everywhere  his  flying  mark ; 
Till — finding  his  last  hope  and  effort  fail — 
He  turns  upon  himself,  and  eats  his  tail. 

I'll  think  of  thee,  thy  parrot,  and  hotel, 

Whene'er  I  see  a  starving  crow  half  dead — 

Rattling  his  bones,  and  willing  now  to  sell 
His  very  soul — if  soul  he  had — for  bread ; 

And  croaking  his  despair  in  every  tongue 

That  grief  or  madness  from  the  lip  hath  wrung ! 

I'll  think  of  thee,  thy  parrot,  and  hotel. 

Whene'er  I  see  a  haggard  miser  die, — 
Half  feeing  him  who  is  to  toll  the  bell. 

And  narrowing  down  the  grave  where  he  must  lie; 
Nor  caring  whether  his  departing  knell 
Follow  his  spirit's  flight  to  heaven  or  hell ! 


A  VISIT  TO   CINTEA.  127 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

Lo !  Cintra's  glorious  Eden  intervenes 
In  variegated  ma^e  of  mount  and  glen. 
All  me !  what  hand  can  pencil  guide,  or  pen, 
To  follow  half  on  which  the  eye  dilates, 
Tlirough  views  more  dazzling  unto  mortal  ken 
Than  those  whereof  such  things  the  bard  relates, 
Who  to  the  awe-struck  world  unlocked  Elysium's  gates  ? 

Childe  Haeold. 

EXCtlESION'   TO    CISTRA — SCENERY — MARIALVA   VILLA — PETEE's    PRISOX 

PENH  A    CONVENT ROYAL    PALACE VISIT    TO    MAFRA    CASTLE ITS    EX- 
TENT  RICHNESS SINGULAR  ORIGIN RETURN  TO  LISBON ITS  STREETS 

AND     DOGS DON     MIGUEL HABITS      OF     THE      FEMALES FRIARS     AND 

MONKS — PERILS    OF    NIGHT-WALKING IMPOSITIONS    ON   STRANGERS A 

BLIND  MUSICIAN POLITICAL  DISASTERS. 

A  PARTY  of  US  left  the  ship  this  morning  for  Cintra, 
that  little  paradise  of  Portugal.  We  chartered  for 
the  occasion  three  cabriolets,  provided  with  stout 
mules,  and  four  saddle-horses.  Thus  seated  and 
mounted,  we  left  the  city  by  the  Alcantra  suburbs, 
and  soon  emerged  into  a  country  of  an  extremely 
light  soil,  with  here  and  there  a  conical  hill,  upon 
which  was  posted  one  of  Don  Quixote's  windmills. 
It  was  not,  after  all,  so  strange  that  this  valorous 
kniirht  should  have  wasred  mortal  combat  with  these 
formidable  things  of  earth  and  air,  for  they  look 
vastly  more  like  brandishing  giants  than  machines 


128  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


merely  for  grinding  corn.  I  will  defy  any  one  to 
look  at  them  for  the  first  time,  throwing  their  strong 
arms  about  in  the  mysteries  of  twilight,  and  not  feel 
for  the  hilt  of  his  trusty  blade. 

And  then,  it  should  be  remembered,  that  the  Don 
was  just  establishing  his  character  for  courage  and 
chivalrous  devotion,  and  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to 
attack  every  thing  that  came  in  so  questionable 
a  shape.  Let  Don  alone ;  he  was  not  so  great  a 
fool  as  some  of  his  self-styled  betters  would  make 
him ;  he  was  a  little  on  the  extreme ;  but  one-half 
the  fighting  in  the  world  hath  a  less  show  of  reason 
in  it. 

"On  our  way  we  passed  Queluz,  one  of  the  royal 
palaces,  standing  near  the  road,  with  extensive  and 
cool  gardens  in  the  rear.  The  building  itself  is  long, 
low,  and  without  any  architectural  pretensions.  A 
number  of  troops  were  paraded  in  front,  who  showed, 
in  the  promptitude  and  crankness  of  their  movements, 
that  they  were  defending  the  person  of  their  king. 
A  soldier  guarding  a  monarch,  and  a  boy  in  charge 
of  a  baboon,  are  always  full  of  pomp  and  circum- 
stance. 

A  few  miles  further  brought  us  to  a  wine  and  bread 
shop,  where  our  postillions  brought  suddenly  up,  de- 
claring it  impossible  for  man  or  beast  to  go  further 
without  refreshment.  Our  horses  were  baited  on 
coarse  bread,  saturated  with  wine — their  grooms  on 
the  same  articles ;  rather  a  dainty  provender,  what- 


VILLA   OF   MARIALVA.  129 

ever  it  may  have  been  as  a  lunch.  "We  now  resumed 
our  seats,  ui'ging  to  a  quicker  pace  our  anti-temper- 
ance team. 

The  heights  of  Cintra  slowly  appeared  in  soft 
romantic  relief  on  the  sky ;  and  the  country,  as  we 
advanced,  gi'adually  assumed  an  aspect  of  richer 
verdure.  As  we  wound  around  a  steep,  obstructing 
elevation,  the  sweet  village  of  Cintra  appeared  nestled 
in  the  drapery  of  a  wild  woodland,  about  half  way 
up  the  "  mountain  of  its  home."  The  very  look  of 
its  freshness  seemed  to  melt  into  one's  heart.  It  was 
like  a  green  bower,  on  an  arid  waste,  under  a  scorch- 
ing sky.  "We  stopped  at  the  hotel  of  Da  Costa — a 
house  finely  in  kee^^ing  with  the  place.  "We  had 
been  over  five  hours  on  the  road,  though  the  distance 
is  but  eighteen  miles.  This  is  a  fine  specimen  of 
Portuguese  rapidity. 

After  an  hom-'s  repose,  and  a  grateful  refreshment, 
we  rambled  to  the  palace  of  the  Marquis  of  Marialva, 
— an  elegant  and  spacious  structure,  with  grounds 
rather  confined,  but  concentrating  a  good  degree  of 
beauty  and  variety.  This  Yilla  is  celebrated  for  the 
Convention  in  which  the  French  stipulated  with 
"Wellington  to  evacuate  Portugal.  The  ink  which 
Junot  scattered  in  his  indignant  reluctance,  as  he  put 
his  hand  to  the  instrument,  still  stains  the  floor. 
Silence  now  reigns  unbroken  in  its  spacious  halls ; 
the  Marialva  line,  so  celebrated  in  Gil  Bias,  has  be- 
come extinct,     loobies  in  death  have  but  one  advan- 

6* 


130  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


tage  over  tlieir  vassak,  and  that  is  the  unenviable 
privilege  of  living  in  the  sarcastic  wit  of  an  autlior. 

We  now  ascended  to  the  Penha  Yerd  Quinta  of 
the  celebrated  Don  John  de  Castro,  who  only  asked 
of  his  sovereign  this  elevation,  in  consideration  of  all 
his  privations,  perils,  and  conquests  in  India.  So  his 
tombstone  on  the  summit  declares  ;  and  this  sentinel 
of  death  for  once,  I  believe,  speaks  the  truth.  "We 
have  in  the  present  case  no  great  occasion  to  doubt 
its  veracity,  for  of  all  situations  in  Portugal,  this  is 
universally  acknowledged  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
and  enchanting.  We  paused  for  a  moment  in  a  sweet 
garden  of  lilies,  tastefully  distributed  in  parterres  of 
box. 

We  were  then  taken  to  what  our  guide  called  St. 
Peter  in  prison.  The  dungeon  is  here  a  cool  grotto, 
lined  with  variegated  shells,  and  refreshed  with  a 
sparkling  fountain.  The  saint  is  represented  in  mar- 
ble, with  the  chain  still  clinging  to  him;  but  so  quiet, 
romantic,  and  wildly  attractive  is  his  situation,  that 
no  one  of  any  taste  would  think  of  running  away 
from  it.  Instead  of  a  sentiment  of  commiseration, 
you  cannot  repress  the  desire  to  exchange  conditions 
with  the  captive. 

Higher  up,  a  thick  forest  of  cork,  pine,  elm,  myrtle, 
orange,  and  lemon  cast  their  deep  fragrant  shade. 
We  here  lost  ourselves  in  a  labyrinth  of  paths,  and  a 
dense  maze  of  underwood,  cut  by  these  irregular 
alleys  into  every  variety  of  shape.     We  emerged  at 


THE   PENHA   CON^^EiSrT.  131 

the  tomb  of  the  hero,  which  stands  on  a  high  airy 
rock,  overlooking  Cintra,  and  commanding  an  exten- 
sive view  of  the  ocean  as  it  rolls  its  world  of  waters 
beyond. 

Upon  the  very  summit  of  the  range  we  found  the 
conspicuous  remains  of  a  Moorish  Castle,  with  the 
noble  tank  still  in  a  state  of  high  preservation.  Near 
by,  on  the  same  height,  stands  the  Penha  convent, 
which  one  might  suppose  must  have  got  here  as  our 
lady's  chapel  got  through  the  yielding  air  to  Loretto ; 
or  its  materials  must  have  been  taken  up  before  bal- 
loons became  the  frail  and  feeble  things  that  we  now 
find  them.  This  convent  was  plundered  by  the 
French.  Nothing  in  height  or  depth  seems  to  have 
escaped  their  rapacity ;  yet  these  gentlemen  of  love 
and  pillage  robbed  with  such  an  exquisite  politeness, 
that  even  their  victims  appear  to  hold  them  in  the 
most  gentle  recollection.  In  our  descent,  upon  ar- 
riving at  a  more  even  and  thickly  shaded  spot,  we 
encountered  three  lusty  beggars,  who  had  come  with 
two  guitars  and  a  fiddle,  to  give  us  a  concert :  we 
paid  them  in  advance,  and  passed  on.  At  six,  we 
reached  our  hotel,  and  sat  down  to  an  excellent 
dinner. 

Upon  rising  from  the  table  some  took  to  the  luxmy 
of  the  siesta,  while  a  few  of  us  improved  the  lin- 
gering light  in  a  visit  to  the  old  Royal  Palace.  We 
found  here  no  guard,  no  king,  not  even  a  sprig  of 
nobility,  but  a  polite  old  porter,  happy  to  show  us 


132  SHIP   ATTO   SHORE, 


every  thing,  for  the  sake  of  his  fee.  He  pointed  ont 
the  room  where  Sebastian  held  his  last  counsel  pre- 
vious to  his  fatal  expedition  to  Africa,  and  seemed 
unwilling  to  believe  that  he  would  never  return  ! 
He  pointed  out  the  room  where  King  Alonzo  Sixth 
was  imprisoned,  and  the  pavement  in  which  his 
solitary  steps  have  left  a  deep  track,  and  then  des- 
canted upon  it  with  a  sorrowful  earnestness  that 
almost  flooded  one's  eyes.  On  our  return  to  the 
hotel,  we  found  the  yard  ftiU  of  women  and  children, 
with  a  thousand  little  articles  of  their  own  fabrica- 
tion to  sell.  We  purchased  a  multitude  of  them,  not 
from  any  want  of  the  articles,  or  that  they  could  be 
of  the  slightest  use ;  but  a  man  is  always  more 
charitable  in  a  foreign  country  than  he  is  in  his  own. 
The  evening  passed  oif  in  easy  pleasantries,  and 
we  retired  at  a  late  hour  to  rest, — Captain  Read,  as 
the  Agamemnon  of  the  party,  to  that  chamber  which 
Byron  occupied  on  his  visit  to  this  place.  It  was 
here  the  youthful  poet  nourished  those  feelings  which 
subsequently  flowed  off  in  the  sorrowful  harmony  of 
Childe  Harold,  a  poem  which,  unlike  much  that  he 
has  written,  will  keep  its  place  in  English  Literature 
till  the  story  of  grief  and  melody  shall  have  ceased 
to  affect  mankind.  The  chain  of  sjanpathy  which 
binds  him  to  the  profound  sensibilities  of  our  nature, 
can  never  be  broken.  He  had  all  the  elements  of 
poetic  power  in  the  most  exalted  degree,  but  failed 
of  reaching  his  noblest  destiny,  owing  in  part  to  that 


JUDGIVIENT   OF   BYKON.  133 

singular  fatality  which  often  attends  a  consciousness 
of  great  force  and  originality  of  genius,  but  more  to 
the  want  of  a  deep  abiding  sense  of  the  responsi- 
bility which  such  rare  gifts  and  such  a  sway  over 
the  human  heart  impose.  Had  he  possessed  this,  it 
would  have  saved  him — sustained  him  in  his  lofty 
career,  nor  left  us  as  much  to  weep  and  shudder  over 
as  to  admire  : — 

He  might  have  soared,  a  miracle  of  mind, 

Above  the  doubts  that  dim  our  mental  sphere, 

And  poured  from  thence,  as  music  on  the  wind, 

Those  prophet  tones,  which  men  had  turned  to  hear. 

As  if  an  angel's  harp  had  sung  of  bliss 

In  some  bright  world  beyond  the  tears  of  this. 

But  he  betrayed  his  trust,  and  lent  his  gift 
Of  glorious  faculties,  to  blight  and  mar 

The  moral  universe,  and  set  adrift 

The  anchored  hopes  of  millions : — Thus  the  star 

Of  his  eventful  destiny  became 

A  wild  and  wandering  orb  of  fearful  flame. 

That  orb  hath  set ;  yet  still  its  lurid  light 
Flashes  above  the  broad  horizon's  verge ; 

As  if  some  comet,  plunging  from  its  heiglit, 
Should  pause  upon  the  ocean's  boiling  surge. 

And  in  defiance  of  its  darksome  doom. 

Light  for  itself  a  fierce  volcanic  tomb  ! 

The  morning  of  our  second  day  at  Cintra  f  und 
us  mounted  upon  a  pack  of  hugely  saddled  and 
cushioned   donkies,  on   our  way  to  Mafra   Castle. 


134:  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


The  distance  is  nine  miles,  over  a  road  as  intolerable 
as  one  can  well  imagine  ;  we  were  more  than  three 
hours  getting  through  it,  but  were  amply  compen- 
sated, in  the  end,  for  all  our  back  and  leg  breaking 
toils.  Mafra  has  been  justly  called  the  Escurial  of 
Portugal ;  its  proportions  are  all  upon  a  lofty  and 
magnificent  scale.  It  contains  a  splendid  palace,  an 
extensive  convent,  and  a  church  of  cathedral  dimen- 
sions. I  can  almost  believe,  as  Murphy  informs  us, 
that  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand  men  were  em- 
ployed for  thirteen  years  in  its  erection  and  com- 
pletion. 

The  church  is  lined  and  paved  with  marble ;  it 
contains  nine  altars,  of  a  refiecting  polish,  glowing 
with  jewels  and  surrounded  with  statues ;  and  six 
organs,  the  beauty  of  which  is  equalled  only  by  their 
richness  of  tone.  I  was  never  so  sensible  of  the  aid 
which  devotion  may  derive  from  external  realities, 
as  when  standing  in  the  vast  solitude  of  this  church, 
with  its  lofty  dome,  its  twilight  gloom,  and  the  sol- 
emn anthem  of  the  organs  filling  and  moving  the 
whole  with  a  profound  majestic  melody. 

The  palace  is  as  magnificently  ample,  as  one  would 
suppose  an  emperor  of  the  world  might  desire.  We 
were  shown  the  luxurious  couch,  upon  which  the 
monarch  may  seek  in  vain  that  repose  which  the 
cabined  slave  freely  enjoys.  The  marble  font,  which 
almost  invades  the  regal  couch,  can  contain  no  purer 
water  than  the  peasant  finds  in  the  brook  that  mur- 


PALACE   AICD    LIBEAET.  135 


miirs  past  Ids  humble  cottage ;  and  the  miirors,  with 
their  smooth,  broad  expanse,  which  line  the  royal 
apartments,  cannot  present  more  perfectly  one's  sec- 
ond self,  than  the  tranquil  stream  into  which  Eve 
first  looked  and  "  timidly  withdrew." 

The  convent  is  suificiently  ample  to  contain  all  the 
monks  of  a  moderate  realm  ;  but  the  stillness  of  the 
apartments  is  broken  only  here  and  there  by  the 
steps  of  the  solitary.  The  library,  in  its  spacious 
hall  of  some  hundred  feet,  casts  at  once  its  fifty 
thousand  volumes  on  the  eye.  Tlie  spectator  stands 
literally  overwhelmed  with  the  learning  of  the  dead. 
Few  of  the  books  are  in  English ;  most  of  the  an- 
cient classics  may  be  seen,  while  a  great  many  of 
them  are  on  ecclesiastical  subjects,  whose  authors 
have  long  since  gone  to  the  realities  of  their  devout 
conjectures. 

On  ascending  to  the  top  of  this  vast  edifice,  we 
found  an  area  wide  enough  to  furnish  footing  for  a 
military  force  adequate  to  the  defence  of  the  whole. 
"While  here,  we  were  favored  with  a  concerto  from 
fifty  of  the  one  hundred  and  twenty  bells  which 
swing  in  the  towers.  The  music  of  these  rolling 
organs  might  awaken  the  multitudes  of  a  slumbering 
city  to  their  matins  :  but  there  is  no  such  city  near, 
to  be  thus  musically  aroused.  Mafra  stands  in  the 
midst  of  a  desert ;  a  few  humble  huts  only  break  the 
sterile  solitude. 

This  vast  pile,  in  all  its  richness  and  magnificence, 


136  SHIP   AND  SHORE. 


was  reared  and  fumislied  on  the  sanctity  and  force 
of  a  conjectural  dream.  Tlie  king  was  informed,  in 
his  desponding  hopes  of  an  heir  to  his  throne,  that 
his  wishes  might  be  realized  by  fomiding  and  en- 
dowing a  convent  here.  Thus  were  the  foundations 
laid  ;  the  future  monarch  soon  made  his  apj^earance, 
and  the  king,  regarding  this  as  a  divine  interposi- 
tion and  sanction,  the  work  went  on,  till  the  stupen- 
dous whole,  with  convent,  church,  and  palace,  were 
completed. 

Never  did  the  prediction  of  a  monk  cost  his  sover- 
eign more.  Whether,  as  scandal  reports,  the  prophet 
was  concerned  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  own  predic- 
tion, is  more  than  I  can  say ;  but  surely  it  was  an 
expensive  babe  to  Portugal.  The  castle,  with  all  its 
appendages,  is  as  much  lost  to  the  realm  and  the 
world,  as  it  would  be  if  it  were  located  in  the  desert 
of  Sahara.  It  is  here  visited  only  by  the  curious 
traveller,  and  it  would  there  catch  occasionally  the 
glance  of  a  passing  caravan. 

After  the  refreshments  of  a  crust  of  bread  and  a 
glass  of  sour  wine,  furnished  in  a  sort  of  hovel — the 
only  inn-accommodations  of  which  the  place  can 
boast — we  started  in  a  drenching  shower  for  Cintra. 
Mrs.  R.  had  fortunately  been  able  to  get  the  loan  of 
a  large  coarse  cloak,  in  which,  with  the  courteous 
assistance  of  Lieutenant  C,  she  wrapped  herself  into 
the  semblance  of  a  sister  of  the  strictest  order.  Her 
transformation  was  so  sudden  and  entire,  as  she  ap- 


KETUEN   TO   CEN'TEA.  137 

peared  thus  hooded  and  swathed,  and  holding  on  in 
the  drifting  rain,  to  a  little  sorry  donkey,  not  larger 
than  a  good-sized  sheep,  that  I  could  not  at  first, 
though  in  a  most  pitiable  plight  myself,  preserve  my 
gravity  of  countenance.  Nothing  but  the  irresistible 
force  of  this  sentiment  of  the  ludicrous,  saved  it  from 
an  appearance  of  rudeness.  But  the  value  of  a  dia- 
mond is  not  the  less  for  being  sprinkled  with  dust, 
or  dashed  with  mud. 

Cintra  never  appeared  more  sweet  and  beautiful, 
than  as  we  approached  it  on  our  return.  Some  por- 
tions of  its  ascending  range  were  covered  with  the 
shadows  of  a  passing  cloud,  while  others  smiled  out 
in  the  clear  light  of  a  warm  sim.  The  cascade,  now 
freshly  replenished  by  the  shower,  came  leaping 
down  from  cliff  to  cliff,  wath  life  and  joy  in  its  mo- 
tion and  voice.  Here  tlie  bold  rock  broke  into 
stronger  relief,  with  its  moss-covered  front ;  there 
the  elm  and  cork  threw  out  their  giant  limbs  ;  while 
upon  elevations  of  a  gentler  genius,  clusters  of  neat 
cottages  were  seen,  embowered  in  vines.  Higher 
up,  and  more  in  keeping  with  the  majesty  of  the 
spot,  the  princely  villa,  smTomided  wdth  forest-trees, 
presented  a  portion  of  its  stately  walls,  or  the  white 
range  of  its  gleaming  pillars  ;  and  over  the  whole,  a 
warm,  soft  tint  was  sprinkled,  which  seemed  to  blend 
itself  into  the  varied  beautv  of  the  scene.  Cintra  is 
the  Eden  of  this  realm — Mafra  a  stupendous  monu- 
ment of  its  superstitious  folly. 


13S  snip   AND  SHORE. 


The  morning  of  our  third  clay  at  Cintra  was  over- 
cast ;  and  frequent  showers  determined  us  to  defer 
our  return  to  Lisbon  till  the  evening.  In  the  mean 
time  we  formed  a  passing  accidental  acquaintance 
with  two  Portuguese  officers  of  rank  and  accom- 
plishments, who  were  temporary  lodgers  with  our 
excellent  landlord.  They  were  gentlemen  of  the  lyre 
as  well  as  sword.  One  of  them  touched  the  guitar 
with  the  hand  of  a  master,  and  the  other  had  emi- 
nently the  sweet  gifts  of  a  melodious  voice.  They 
played  and  sung  at  intervals  for  an  hour  or  two,  in 
compliment  to  Mrs.  R.,  who  returned  the  obligation 
by  a  few  Italian  airs  in  her  best  style. 

We  invited  them  to  dine  with  us ;  and  among 
other  topics  which  floated  around,  was  one  calculated 
to  detect  their  political  leaning.  They  were  asked 
with  a  jjrofound  affectation  of  ignorance,  what  could 
be  the  object  of  the  English  in  sending,  at  this  par- 
ticular time,  so  large  a  naval  force  to  the  Tagus. 
One  of  them  promptly  replied,  that  the  English 
were  remarkably  fond  of  the  comedy,  and,  under- 
standing that  one  was  to  be  acted  at  Lisbon,  they 
had  come  to  witness  it.  Never  was  there  an  answer 
upon  which  a  man's  life  may  perhaps  have  depended 
more  quick,  or  guarded,  than  this.  Such  men  will 
never  lose  their  heads,  whatever  may  be  the  result 
of  the  quarrel  between  Miguel  and  his  brother. 
And  they  are  right ;  I  would  as  soon  peril  my  life 
upon  a  question  of  the  comparative  strength  of  the 


EETUEN   TO   LISBON.  139 

square  or  triangle  construction  of  a  cob-house,  as 
tliat  of  legitimacy  in  sovereigns. 

Taking  leave  of  oui-  wortlij  landlord,  whom,  with 
his  ever-cheerful  wife,  agreeable  house,  and  well- 
furnished  table,  I  would  recommend  to  all  travellers, 
we  started  on  our  return  to  Lisbon.  We  arrived 
quite  late  in  the  evening,  and  put  up  at  Madam 
Julia's  hotel.  The  monkey  had  ceased  his  pranks, 
the  parrot  was  silent,  and  even  Madam  Julia  herself 
did  not  seem  to  speak  in  so  many  languages  as 
usual. 

The  servant  boy  of  Captain  Eead,  whose  horse 
had  run  away  with  him,  and  whom  we  had  not  seen 
for  hours,  now  rushed  in,  and  by  way  of  apology  for 
his  absence,  told  how  the  animal  had  failed  him  three 
times ;  while  another  proverb  in  Arabic,  from  our 
hostess,  settled  the  point,  that  it  is  safer  to  walk  than 
ride,  inasmuch  as  the  pedestrian  has  four  the  less 
legs  to  take  care  of.  So,  having  established  this  great 
truth  in  probable  accidents,  we  retired  to  rest.  But 
Cintra  was  all  night  in  my  dream  ! — 

It  floated  there,  as  some  sweet  fairy  land 

Of  fragrant  flowers,  for  bii-ds  and  bees  to  sip, — 

Where  crystal  streams  glide  o'er  the  golden  sand, 
And  fruits  of  nectar  greet  the  gushing  lip ; — 

Where  life's  a  careless  round  of  rest  and  play, — 

A  childhood  mid  the  merriest  things  of  May. 

Approaching  Lisbon  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Tagus,  it  has  the  appearance  of  a  truly  magnificent 


140  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


city.  Tlie  lofty  buildings,  with  their  white  walls, 
and  airy  turrets,  stretch  far  up  a  finely  ascending 
plane.  But  as  you  approach  it  more  nearly,  and 
wander  through  it,  your  admiration  ceases,  and  you 
become  excessively  disgusted  with  the  rags  of  the 
rabble,  and  the  narrowness  and  filth  of  the  streets. 

The  inclined  position  of  Lisbon  would  render  its 
cleanliness  perfectly  feasible ;  but  no  attention  is 
given  to  the  matter,  except  what  exists  in  some  muni- 
cipal regulations,  wdiich  affect  the  canine  portion  of 
the  community.  Dogs  are  the  only  authorized  scav- 
engers, and  for  their  services  in  this  respect,  they  are 
granted  certain  rights  and  immunities.  They  swarm 
through  the  streets,  especially  at  night,  and  so  ob- 
struct the  narrow  passages,  that  you  are  continually 
stumblino;  over  them. 

The  French,  while  here,  bayoneted  these  scaven- 
gers by  the  hundreds,  and  compelled  those  who  move 
on  two  legs  to  take  their  place.  The  effect,  of  course, 
was  a  more  clean  and  healthy  city ;  but  the  French 
are  gone,  and  the  dogs  are  reinstated  in  their  ancient 
rights.  I  have  seen  no  personal  violence  offered  to 
any  of  them,  except  by  the  king.  His  majesty  is  in 
the  habit  of  riding  througli  the  city  upon  a  very 
fleet  horse,  and  carrying  in  his  hand  a  prodigiously 
long  wand,  with  which  he  exhibits  his  muscular 
power,  and  brachial  dexterity,  in  knocking  over  these 
poor  Trays.  His  aim  is  sure,  and  his  blow  certain 
death.     I  saw  him  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes 


AN    OFFENSIVE   CUSTOM.  141 

knock  several  of  them  entirely  out  of  existence,  and 
tliat  too — wliicli  made  the  case  rather  a  hard  one- 
while  they  were  picking  the  filth  ont  of  their  mon- 
arch's path. 

But  the  dogs  are  now  becoming  extremely  shy  of 
their  king,  and  are  manifesting  their  sagacity  by  a 
timely  escape  from  the  reach  of  his  wand.  They 
detect  at  a  distance  the  rapid  sound  of  his  charger's 
hoof,  and  instantly  take  to  flight,  after  the  true  old 
maxim — let  those  escape  who  can,  and  the  devil  take 
the  hindennost. 

It  is  not  safe  for  one  who  respects  his  olfactories, 
or  his  ajDparel,  to  be  in  the  streets  of  Lisbon  after  ten 
at  night.  The  goddess  of  Cloacina  begins  to  reign 
at  that  horn',  and  her  ofierings  are  cast  down  indis- 
ci'iminately  from  every  upper  window.  Her  altars, 
which  in  every  other  city  are  under  ground,  are  here 
the  open  pavement ;  and  woe  to  the  luckless  wight 
who  happens  to  be  passing  at  the  time  of  oblations : 
he  will  think  of  any  thing  but  the  sweet  scents  of 
Araby  and  the  piu'e  waters  of  Helicon.  How  the 
imgentle  worship  of  this  goddess  should  be  thus 
fashionably  tolerated,  is  inconceivable ;  it  is  enough 
to  di'ive  all  romance  and  knight-errantry  out  of  a 
city ! 

I  wonder  not  that  poetry  has  ceased  here — that 
the  harp  is  unstrung  and  the  minstrel  gone.  How 
Love  should  linger  under  the  embarrassments  and 
perils  of  such  a  dodging  existence,  is  a  mystery. 


143  snip  AND  SHORE. 


But  this  little  fellow  of  the  purple  wing  and  laugli- 
ing  eye  is  somehow  the  last  to  leave  any  community. 
He  manages  to  remain,  whatever  may  betide,  else  he 
would  have  long  since  taken  his  departure  from 
Lisbon,  and  left  its  daughters  to  their  desolate  hearts, 
their  silent  tears,  and  worse — their  broken  guitars ! 

Political  disasters  and  jealousies  here  have  nearly 
broken  up  those  little  intimacies,  which  used  to  pre- 
vail in  families  of  the  same  rank,  and  upon  which 
depend  the  social  enjoyments  of  every  community. 
Ladies  are  now  seldom  seen  in  any  considerable 
numbers,  except  at  worshij) ;  and  here  they  meet  at 
all  hours  of  the  day.  You  may  pass  from  church  to 
church,  and  find  in  the  nave  of  each,  large  groups  of 
well-dressed  females.  The  most  young  and  fashion- 
able assume  a  position  in  advance  of  the  others ; 
coming  in,  they  first  kneel,  cross  themselves,  move 
their  lips  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  assume  a  sit- 
ting posture  on  the  clean  marble  pavement,  with 
their  small  feet  drawn  up  under  them,  something 
after  the  Turkish  fashion. 

They  sit  here  by  the  half  day  together ;  and  when 
there  is  no  public  service  going  on,  which  is  usually 
the  case,  they  amuse  themselves  in  whispering  over 
to  each  other  those  little  things  of  which  ladies  are 
prone  to  be  fond.  To  the  young  gentlemen,  who 
are  probably  attracted  here  more  b}^  the  worshippers 
than  the  worshipped,  they  never  speak,  except  with 
their  eyes ;  but  these  organs  with  them  have  a  Ian- 


FKIARS  AKD  MONKS.  143 

guage  more  true  to  the  instincts  of  the  heart,  than 
any  dialect  of  the  lip. 

These  whispering  and  glancing  assemblages  are 
more  excusable  here,  than  they  would  be  in  our 
country.  Ladies  with  us  may  meet  when  and  where 
they  please,  and  almost  whom  they  please ;  but  here 
these  social  indulgences  are  not  known  ;  and  it  is  a 
very  natural  consequence  that  the  ladies  should  avail 
themselves  of  the  facilities  which  the  church  and 
balcony  afford,  for  evading  these  irksome  restrictions. 

A  lady  who  does  not  dare  to  afford  you  a  passing 
look  as  you  meet  her  in  the  street,  will,  in  the  church, 
knock  aside  her  mantilla  with  her  fan,  and  divide 
her  glance  between  yon  and  the  image  of  the  blessed 
Virgin ;  or,  if  you  are  passing  near  her  balcony,  she 
will  dart  npon  you  all  the  sweet  attractions  of  her 
unveiled  face.  Unreasonable  and  indiscriminate  re- 
straints promote  neither  the  cause  of  religion  or 
virtue.  Tliey  convert  the  sanctuary  into  an  ogling 
room,  and  the  ballustered  window  into  an  amatory 
bower. 

The  friars  and  monks  of  Lisbon  are,  apparently, 
the  best  fed  j^eople  in  it :  they  have  a  majestic  cor- 
pulency of  person,  which  reminds  one  of  the  good 
cheer  which  Sir  Jack,  of  sack  memory,  so  much  ad- 
mired. You  meet  them  at  every  turn,  in  their  black 
flowing  robes,  sandals,  silver-buckled  shoes,  and  hats 
of  enormous  brim.  They  move  along  with  that 
gentlemanly,  good-natured,  slow  pace,  which  heeds 


144  snir  and  siioek. 


not  the  lliglit  of  time.  They  have  none  of  that  thin, 
thinkings  anxious  look,  which  converts  the  closet  and 
pulpit  into  a  befitting  refuge  for  ghosts ;  but  they 
have  that  full,  fat,  jolly  cast  of  countenance  which 
lets  the  world  pass  for  better  or  worse,  and  which 
well  becomes  a  man,  who  knows  that  he  can  shrive  a 
Sodom  of  its  sins  in  a  minute,  or  exorcise  the  devil 
out  of  as  many  millions  as  there  are  sands  on  the 
sea-shore.  There  is  something  in  this  full,  well-fed 
look  of  unconcern  about  this  world  and  the  next, 
w^hich  makes  a  man's  conscience  set  easy  upon  him, 
and  he  begins  to  feel  the  flesh  thicken  upon  his  own 
bones. 

The  vow  of  celibacy  in  these  fat,  easy  men,  does 
not — if  there  be  any  truth  in  scandal — seriously 
interfere  with  their  domestic  pleasures.  They  have 
no  wives,  it  is  true,  but  the  Foundling  Hospitals, 
which  are  extensive  and  liberally  endowed,  have 
within  them,  according  to  report,  many  a  sacerdotal 
likeness  ;  and  these  little  fellows  of  ambiguous 
parentage,  will,  many  of  them,  come  forth  one  day 
to  confess  their  betters,  and  run  the  career  of  their 
worthy  fathers.  The  thing  runs  round  in  a  rich 
voluptuous  circle,  far  above  the  intrusions  of  an  im- 
pertinent conscience,  and  the  insulting  terrors  of  a 
threatened  hell.  Such  a  life  is  worth  having,  and 
branded  be  the  heretic  that  questions  its  sanctity. 

It  is  not,  to  be  sure,  in  exact  accordance  with  the 
habits  of  the  Apostles  ;  but  those  men  of  leathern 


DWELLING-HOUSES,  145 


girdles  were  foolish  martjTS  to  their  self-denying 
zeal.  They  lived  in  times  when  the  absolving  func- 
tions of  popes  and  priests  were  not  known :  why, 
then,  should  their  example  be  quoted  in  these  good 
easy  times,  when  there  is  no  ignorance  to  be  en- 
lightened, and  no  depravity  to  be  restrained  ?  Let 
the  world  turn  round  on  its  axle,  and  let  us  all  jog 
quietly  along  into  heaven.  But  enough  of  this ! 
The  sentinel  who  sleeps  on  his  post,  forfeits  his  life, 
and  the  minister  of  Christ,  who  slumbers  over  his 
responsibilities,  perishes  with  a  double  doom  ! 

The  dwelling-houses  of  Lisbon  are,  many  of  them, 
five  and  six  stories  in  height :  each  loft  has  its  family 
and  restricted  accommodations  ;  a  broad,  dirty,  com- 
mon stairway  leads  up  through  the  whole  ;  and  the 
rent  decreases  with  the  altitude.  I  wonder  at  this, 
for  so  intolerably  filthy  are  many  of  the  streets, 
which  are  continually  sending  up  their  noxious  ex- 
halations, that  I  would  get,  if  possible,  into  the 
highest  loft,  though  it  reached  the  moon. 

It  is  as  much  as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  attempt  to 
get  through  the  city  by  night.  There  are  no  lights, 
except  here  and  there  a  glimmer  from  some  case- 
ment, which  only  serves  the  more  to  bewilder;  and 
you  stumble  along,  through  dirt,  and  dogs,  and  dark- 
ness, till  you  fall  at  last  into  some  foul  ditch,  or 
bring  up  against  some  sturdy,  black  visaged  fellow, 
who  accosts  you  with  a  demand  for  your  jDurse. 
Many  a  poor  stranger,  after  having  thus  battered  his 

7 


146  SUIP   AND   SHORE. 


shins,  lost  his  hat,  and  bedabbled  himself  with  mud, 
has  ended  the  night's  disasters  by  being  robbed,  and 
then  perhaps  mm-dered, 

I  experienced  one  night  all  but  the  last  incident, 
and  I  should  prefer  being  assassinated  in  any  place 
to  this,  for  I  should  not  have  even  the  miserable  con- 
solation of  believing  that  my  murderer  would  be 
detected,  and  made  an  example  of  warning  to  the 
rest  of  his  nocturnal  profession.  Law  here  runs 
upon  accidents  ;  it  is  like  a  wolf  plunging  through  a 
bramble — he  may  crush  a  snake,  but  he  is  much 
more  likely  to  pounce  on  a  lamb. 

The  traveller  in  Lisbon  is  imposed  upon  in  every 
conceivable  shape :  he  is  besieged  by  beggars,  pil- 
fered by  pickpockets,  cheated  by  his  hostess,  and 
plundered  by  his  cicerone.  I  inquired  this  morning 
of  a  cocheiro  what  he  would  charge  to  take  me  a 
short  distance,  to  a  place  which  I  named.  He  stated 
his  price  in  rees^  a  coin  with  which  I  was  not  famil- 
iar. A  third  individual,  watching  my  embarrass- 
ment, touched  his  hat,  and  observed  that  the  price 
named  by  the  cocheiro  was  five  Spanish  dollars,  and 
offered  very  kindly  to  take  the  money,  pay  liim,  and 
see  he  did  his  duty.  But  before  he  had  finished  his 
story,  a  fourth  came  up,  and,  drawing  me  slightly 
aside,  said  that  the  price  demanded  by  the  cocheiro 
was  only  four  dollars,  and  that  the  man  had  stated  it 
to  be  five,  for  the  sake  of  pocketing  one  himself,  and 
ofiered  generously  to  take  the  sum,  and  pay  it  over, 


CHEATING  IMPOSITIONS.  l-i7 

lest  tliere  should  be  some  misimderstanding,  and  I 
should,  after  all,  be  cheated. 

I  hesitated,  not  liking  the  price,  or  the  man's  soli- 
citude, when  a  fifth  person  drawing  near,  whispered 
that  he  had  a  word  to  say  to  me ;  when,  turning 
away  a  step  or  two  with  him,  he  said  that  these  two 
men  were  the  greatest  cheats  in  Lisbon,  that  they 
imposed  on  all  strangers,  that  the  price  of  the 
cocheiro  was  simply  three  dollars,  that  he  would  take 
the  money,  and  perhaps  he  might  be  able  to  beat 
him  down  even  a  trifle  below  that  sum.  I  was  not, 
however,  quite  so  green  in  the  world  as  to  be  caught 
yet,  and  observing  a  Portuguese  merchant,  with 
whom  I  had  become  acquainted,  passing,  I  got  him  to 
explain  to  me  the  amount  of  the  price  named  at  first 
by  the  cocheiro  ;  and  it  proved  to  be  only  two  dollars ! 

The  reason  the  cocheiro  did  not  interfere  and 
rescue  me  from  the  friendship  of  these  interpreters 
was,  that  they  spoke  very  low  and  in  broken  English, 
M^hich  he  could  not  comprehend ;  or  there  might  have 
been  an  understanding  between  him  and  these  kind 
souls,  for,  after  all,  I  got  cheated,  and  paid  about 
twice  as  much  as  the  usual  price.  A  stranger  here 
wants  an  eye  in  every  hair  of  his  head  ;  and  then,  if 
his  skull-cap  be  a  wng,  he  will  lose  it ! 

The  traveller  will  find  but  little  choice  between  the 
hotels  of  Lisbon ;  they  are  all  miserable,  perhaps 
Madam  Julia's  the  least  so.  If  liis  linguistical  hostess 
press  him  too  hard  on  the  subject  of  ancient  Ian- 


148  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


guages,  he  must  adopt  a  similar  expedient  to  the  one 
which  I  took  refuge  in  last  evening ;  for  as  this  rep- 
resentative of  all  languages,  especially  the  dead, 
came  waddling  to  a  chair  near  my  side,  commencing 
even  before  she  had  rolled  into  her  seat,  a  disserta- 
tion on  the  relative  force  of  Cicero  and  Demosthenes, 
I  happened  to  look  out  at  an  open  window,  and  dis- 
covering a  blind  man  with  a  violin,  led  by  a  lad,  who 
carried  a  guitar,  dispatched  a  servant  with  instruc- 
tions to  invite  them  in. 

Madam  Julia  declared  a  man  must  be  out  of  his 
wits  who  could  prefer  such  music  as  that  to  the  elo- 
quence of  the  classics,  and  that  she  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  have  beggars  in  her  parlor.  I  told  her  the 
fiddle  must  come  or  I  should  go,  and  ordered  two 
good  suppers  prepared  for  my  new  guests.  The  last 
order  partially  reconciled  madam  to  the  introduction 
of  the  strangers,  and  the  sudden  breaking  off  of  the 
literary  discussion. 

My  new  acquaintances  entered  :  one  was  a  man  of 
sixty,  cleanly  clad,  and  perfectly  blind ;  the  other 
was  his  son,  a  lad  of  twelve  years,  with  a  very  bright, 
intelligent  countenance.  I  inquired  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman how  long  he  had  been  blind.  He  replied, 
"  From  my  early  childhood,  sir."  "  And  do  you  not 
find,"  I  asked,  "  a  consolation  for  this  visual  depriva- 
tion in  this  violin  ?"  "  It  is  the  only  thing,"  he  re- 
plied, "  that  reconciles  me  to  life."  "  And  would 
you  not,"  I  thoughtlessly  asked,  "  be  willing  to  part 


COlSTDinON   OP   PORTUGAL.  149 

forever  with  this  instrument  on  condition  you  could 
recover  your  sight  ?"  He  seemed  to  hesitate  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said,  "  That,  sir,  is  rather  a  difficult 
question." 

After  supper,  in  which  the  boy  betrayed  a  truly 
filial  and  amiable  disposition  in  assisting  his  blind 
father  to  the  coffee  and  different  dishes,  they  played 
for  an  hour;  and  I  have  rarely  been  more  enter- 
tained. Katm'e  seems  to  have  made  up  in  music  to 
the  bereaved  man  what  misfortune  had  deprived  him 
of,  in  the  loss  of  his  sight.  His  voice  flows  into  the 
full  harmony  of  his  violin  with  expressive  richness 
and  force.  I  would  exchange  to-day  the  use  of  one 
eye  at  least  for  the  musical  gift  of  voice  and  the 
magical  power  over  the  violin  which  this  blind  man 
possesses. 

In  any  country  capable  of  appreciating  and  award- 
ing merit,  so  far  from  mendicity,  he  would  rise  at 
once  to  affluence ;  but  here  the  unworthy  seem  to 
prosper,  and  the  meritorious  to  starve.  The  perform- 
ance of  the  lad  was  astonishing  for  one  of  his  years ; 
but  he  had  been  trained,  as  his  father  informed  me, 
almost  from  his  infancy  to  the  guitar.  On  parting 
with  these  new  friends,  I  put  into  the  hand  of  the 
boy  what  little  money  the  extravagant  charges  of 
Madam  Julia  had  left,  and  only  regretted  it  was  not 
more. 

The  resources  of  Portugal  are  now  in  a  most 
wretched  condition.     She  has  squandered  her  wealth 


150  SHIP   AND  SHORE. 


in  the  prosecution  of  schemes  which  have  ended  only 
in  abortion— in  the  continuance  of  wars,  which  have 
terminated  in  her  disgrace — and  in  the  support  of 
an  overgrown  ecclesiastical  establishment,  that  now 
weighs  like  a  crushing  incubus  upon  the  poor  rem- 
nants of  her  strength.  Her  capitalists  are  deterred 
from  investments  by  the  insecurity  of  property ;  her 
merchants  have  lost  their  enterprise  in  the  onerous 
restrictions  of  commerce;  and  her  oppressed  peas- 
antry, discouraged  and  broken-hearted,  have  retired 
to  their  hovels  to  die  ! 

Nor  in  a  political  aspect  is  she  less  degraded  and 
miserable.  Her  throne  is  the  subject  of  a  violent 
fraternal  conflict ;  her  towns  and  villages  are  con- 
verted into  lawless  camps;  and  her  more  worthy 
citizens  are  sent  into  exile,  to  the  scaffold,  and  the 
dungeon !  Freedom  of  opinion,  nobleness  of  de- 
meanor, national  pride,  and  self-respect  have  all  per- 
ished from  her  soil,  or  survive  only  in  some  dark, 
indignant  recess !  These  are  the  fruits  of  a  doting, 
drivelling  despotism,  that  has  ever  manifested  its 
imbecility  by  the  pursuit  of  schemes  visionary  and 
impracticable ;  that  has  long  betrayed  its  ignorance, 
by  confounding  a  calm  difference  of  opinion  with 
treason  ;  and  that  still  evinces  its  unrelieved  tyranny 
by  punishing  with  death  an  exercise  of  that  intelli- 
gence which  alone  raises  man  above  the  abject 
brute. 

But  our  anchor  is  weighed,  and  I  must  leave  this 


ADIEU  TO   CINTEA.  151 


land  of  peril  and  soitow.  Adieu,  sweet  Cintra! 
thou  art  a  green  oasis  in  the  desert  of  thy  realm. 
Farewell,  thou  noble  Tagus !  would  that  those  who 
dwell  on  thy  fresh  banks  were  more  worthy  of  thy 
golden  tribute :  and  Madam  Julia,  farewell  to  thee ! — 
the  tears  are  in  my  eyes  ! — farewell ! 

Cherish  thy  parrot ;  and  declare  to  all 

That  this  serene,  exquisite  bird  was  given, 

Before  the  dismal  discords  of  the  Fall, 
To  bring  to  earth  the  dialect  of  heaven ; 

The  very  bird  from  whose  celestial  stammer 

Our  mother  Eve  first  learnt  the  Hebrew  Grammar. 


152  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

He  is  a  cliild  of  mere  impulse  and  passion. 
Loving  his  friends,  and  generous  to  his  foes, 

And  fickle  as  the  most  ephemeral  fashion, 
Save  in  the  cut  and  color  of  his  clothes, 

And  in  a  set  of  phrases,  which  on  land 

The  wisest  head  could  never  understand. 

PASSAGE    FROM    LISBON  TO    GIBRALTAR DIVERSIONS  OF  THE  SAILOR HIS 

TACT  AT  TELLING  STORIES — LOVE  OF  THE  SONG FONDNESS  FOR  DANCING 

UNHAPPY  PROPENSITIES DUTY  OF  THE    GOVERNMENT   TOWARDS    HIM 

GIBRALTAR A  BIIFITTING  EMBLEM  OF  BRITISH  POWER ROMANCE  OF 

ITS     HISTORY FORTIFICATIONS TROOPS MOTLEY     POPULATION SUM- 
MIT  OF   THE    ROCK ST.  MICHAEL's    CAVE THE    FIVE    HUNDRED MON- 

BODDO'S  ORIGINALS — PLEASURE  PARTY MUSIC  AND  A  MERMAID. 

We  are  again  at  sea,  with  our  canvas  set  to  a  fresh, 
fair  breeze,  that  promises  to  take  ns  to  onr  destined 
port.  The  evening  has  come  in  bland  and  beautiful ; 
the  sky,  nature's  great  dome,  is  yet  imlit  by  the 
softer  stars,  but  the  light  of  the  departed  sun  still 
lingers  on  the  cloud,  fringing  it  with  golden  fire. 
Such  an  evening  as  this  more  than  reconciles  one  to 
the  strange,  adventurous  life  of  the  sailor;  yet  it 
brings  with  it,  like  the  tones  of  recollected  music,  all 
the  sacred  endearments  of  home. 

The  ocean  traveller  thinks  if  only  that  one  being, 
who  dwells  so  brightly  in  his  memory,  could  be  near 
him — could  look  at  the  same  sunset,  sky,  and  stars — 


STORIES   OF  THE   SAILOES.  153 


it  would  be  all  he  could  ask — he  should  be  happy ; 
and  perhaps  he  would,  for  their  hearts  would  imper- 
ceptibly become  harmonized  to  the  same  tone  of  pen- 
sive sentiment,  till,  like  the  mingling  note  of  two 
lutes  in  perfect  unison,  their  spirits  would  become 
one,  and  the  current  of  their  thoughts  would  glide 
away  as  from  the  same  fres^  fount.  In  the  solitude 
of  their  situation  they  would  cling  to  each  other,  as 
all  that  this  poor  world  contains,  nor  dream  that 
either  could  survive  a  dissolution  of  this  concentrated 
life.  An  hour  of  such  confiding  attachment  as  this 
is  worth  years  of  that  heartless  intimacy  which  ob- 
tains in  the  circles  of  the  gay. 

Such  an  evening  as  this,  with  its  steady  breeze,  is 
a  pastime  to  the  roving  sailor.  He  has  no  sails  to 
reef,  no  yards  to  trim,  and  sits  himself  quietly  down, 
wliile  one  of  his  companions,  blessed  with  a  more 
fertile  imagination,  spins  a  long  yarn.  These  stories 
partake  vastly  more  of  fiction  than  fact,  and  are 
often,  I  have  no  doubt,  the  mere  creations  of  the 
individual.  They  do  not  very  nicely  preserve  the 
unities,  but  these  are  forgotten  in  a  succession  of 
marvellous,  ludicrous,  and  tragical  incidents.  One  of 
them  will  frequently  be  extended  through  several 
nights,  and  apparently  increase  in  interest  with  its 
length. 

I  have  just  heard  one  resumed  for  the  fourth  night, 
and  how  much  longer  it  will  be  continued  no  one  can  , 
conjecture.     The  circle   seated  themselves   in  their 

7* 


154  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


wonted  place  on  deck ;  a  silence  ensued :  "  And 
where  did  I  knock  off?"  inquired  the  teller.  "  Just 
where  the  gale  struck  the  ship  and  she  was  thrown 
on  her  beam's  end,"  answered  one  of  the  listeners. 
"  No,  it  was  where  she  split  on  the  rock,  just  as  she 
was  making  a  snug  harbor,"  replied  another.  "That 
was  not  the  spot,  neither,"  interrupted  a  third ;  "  it 
was  where  that  strong  swimmer,  with  a  shark  at  his 
heel,  made  his  way  through  breakers  to  the  shore, 
and  then  dropped  on  the  sand  with  his  strength  all 
spent.  Don't  you  remember  the  beautiful  girl  who 
came  down  to  the  beach  and  held  his  head  on  her 
knee,  when  her  blessed  tears  dropped  on  his  cheek  ?" 
"Oh!  that  was  the  spot,"  exclaimed  the  story- 
teller, "  and  a  sweeter  creature  never  lived  :  she 
knew  nothing  about  that  man,  only  that  he  had  been 
wrecked,  for  she  was  standing  on  a  cliff  when  she 
saw  the  ship  strike  the  rock  and  go  down  ;  yet  soon 
as  he  reached  the  beach,  and  was  trying  to  get  fur- 
ther from  the  wave,  and  kept  fainting  and  falling 
till  he  couldn't  rise  any  more,  she  came  at  once  to 
him,  sat  directly  down,  and  raised  his  head  on  her 
knee,  and  then — bless  her  sweet  heart ! — wrung  all 
the  salt  water  out  of  his  hair,  and  watched  his  face 
like  a  sister,  to  see  if  he  would  breathe  again.  Oh  ! 
fellows,  there  is  something  in  a  woman  you  never 
meet  with  in  a  man.  She  never  waits  to  be  paid 
for  her  pity, — it  comes  at  once  bubbling  right  up  out 
of  her  heart.     This  girl  knew  the  man  had  nothing 


SONG   OF   THE   SAtLOK.  155 

to  give  hei'  for  her  kindness,  for  his  landtacks  had 
all  been  wrecked  with  the  ship;  she  saw  he  was 
young,  and  handsome  too,  if  he  hadn't  been  so  pale  ; 
but  it  wasn't  that,  that  made  her  come  to  him." 
Here  I  was  called  away ;  the  story,  however,  was 
continued,  but  of  the  end  I  know  as  little  as  the 
reader. 

The  song  is  another  evening  amusement  among 
our  sailors,  when  the  breeze  is  steady  and  the  sea 
smooth.  They  gather  forward  before  the  call  of  the 
first  watch  in  a  large  group,  when  some  one,  more 
favored  than  the  rest  in  melody  of  voice,  is  called 
upon  for  a  song.  With  little  ado,  save  adjusting  his 
tarpaulin  and  dispensing  with  his  quid,  he  strikes 
up, — it  may  be  the  Defeat  of  Bm-goyne,  the  Battle 
of  Plattsburg,  the  Star-spangled  Banner,  the  Cherub 
that  sits  up  Aloft,  or  Black-eyed  Susan, — but  what- 
ever be  his  choice,  or  the  selection  of  his  comrades, 
he  sings  it  with  a  genuine  earnestness,  and  down- 
right honesty  of  heart.  The  music,  be  the  words 
what  they  may,  has  generally  a  touch  of  the  melan- 
choly, and  might  be  classed,  without  any  violence, 
among  those  airs  to  which  the  good  Whitfield  al- 
luded, when  he  determined  that  the  devil  should  not 
run  away  with  all  the  fine  tunes. 

There  was  one  among  our  crew,  whose  powers  in 
the  musical  line  were  so  far  above  his  fellows  that 
we  often  called  upon  him  for  a  song.  His  fa- 
vorite was  Black-eyed  Susan ;  and  he  sung  it  with 


166  SHIP   AKD    SnOKE. 

a  fidelity  to  the  sentiment  that  reached  the  very 
heart.  The  national  airs  of  the  sailor  ever  breathe 
of  battle,  and  burn  with  patriotism ;  they  are  in- 
tensely kindled  with  sentiments  that  flash  through 
all  the  depths  of  his  soul.  Should  the  watch-fires  of 
freedom  ever  be  extinguished  on  our  cliffs,  there  will 
still  be  embers  in  the  breast  of  the  sailor,  at  which 
liberty,  exiled  from  the  land,  may  light  her  torch. 

Another  amusement  with  the  sailor  in  the  still 
evening  at  sea,  no  less  than  among  the  diversions  of 
the  shore,  is  dancing.  Tliis  elegant  accomplishment, 
as  it  is  generally  termed,  belongs,  I  think,  of  right  to 
him;  for  without  the  least  instructions,  without 
having  ever  been  taught  a  single  figure,  or  step,  or 
even  told  that  he  tnust  tm-n  out  his  toes,  he  goes 
ahead,  and  keeps  time  with  a  precision  and  emphasis 
of  motion  seldom  met  with  in  the  saloon.  There  are 
with  him  no  studied  bows,  no  mincing  airs,  no  sim- 
pering looks,  no  glances  at  one's  own  white  glove, 
and  light,  elastic  pump,  no  rivalries  and  jealousies, 
significant  nods,  nor  quarrels  about  position,  nor 
even  about  partners ;  for  if  Lucy  is  engaged,  Mary 
is  not,  and  that  is  enough  for  him.  He  unships  his 
tai-paulin,  dashes  into  the  ranks  and  bounds  to  the 
music  with  an  exulting  Ijfe  and  heart. 

Nor  is  the  presence  of  the  other  sex,  however  de- 
sirable, indispensable  to  him  in  this  frequent  pastime  ; 
for,  on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  and  far  away  at  sea, 
where  women  may  have  never  been,  if  a  lip  or  lute 


HABITS   OF   THE   SAILOR.  157 

or  string  make  the  music,  he  is  ever  ready  to  move 
to  it  with  his  quick  step  and  vigorous  limb  ;  and  he 
may  sometimes  be  seen,  when  the  winds  are  frolicking 
and  piping  through  his  shrouds,  keeping  fantastic 
time  to  their  wild  notes.  Alas,  those  notes  !  they  are 
too  often  the  pleasing,  deceptive  precursors  of  a  gale, 
that  is  on  its  way  to  wreck  that  ship, — to  sink  it  there 
with  all  its  happy  hearts,  and  leave  over  the  spot 
where  it  went  down,  only  the  dirge  of  the  passing 


wave ! 

Our  life  is  but  a  tale,  a  dance,  a  song, 
A  little  wave  that  frets  and  ripples  by ; 

Our  hopes  the  bubbles  which  it  bears  along, 
Born  with  a  breath,  and  broken  with  a  sigh. 

Then  tix,  my  heart,  thy  trust  in  faith  sublime, 

Above  the  storms  and  tempest-wrecks  of  time ! 

"Would  that  the  diversions  and  excitements  of  the 
sailor  never  carried  him  more  widely  on  the  moral 
compass  from  his  true  course  than  he  is  borne  when 
yielding  to  the  vein  of  a  song,  or  making  the  part  of 
his  story.  But  he  is  so  entirely  the  creature  of  im- 
pulse and  momentary  feeling,  and  frequently  finds 
himself  so  fai-  out  of  his  reckoning,  that  it  costs  him 
many  troublesome  tacks,  and  the  most  painfully  close 
sailing,  to  enable  him  to  bring  up  the  leew^ay. 

No  one  thing  contributes  more  to  this  disastrous 
departure,  than  the  stimulating  bowl.  This  is  his 
darling  sin — his  prevailing  tempter — his  flattering, 
false  friend — his  associate  in  joy,  his  refuge  in  grief^ 


158  snip   AND   STIOEE. 


—and  the  prime  source  of  all  the  errors  and  evils  that 
befall  him.  Will  it  be  credited  hereafter,  that  the 
government! — the  kind  paternal  government  which 
he  serves, — presents  this  poisoned  chalice  to  his  lips? 
Yet  this  is  the  fact !— a  fact  that  will  fill  those  who 
may  wn-ite  the  history  of  these  times  with  incredulity 
and  amazement ! 

The  evils  to  the  sailor,  of  which  this  vicious  indul- 
gence is  the  source,  are  of  the  most  affecting  char- 
acter. There  is  not  a  wave  or  shore  where  our  can- 
vas has  been  spread  that  is  not  darkened  with  the 
graves  of  our  mariners.  There  is  not  a  circle  from 
which  these  bold  hearts  have  gone,  that  has  not  been 
filled  with  mourning  for  those  who  are  to  return  no 
more.  Could  the  wave  that  has  been  the  winding- 
sheet  of  the  sailor  speak ;  could  the  lonely  shore 
reveal  the  secrets  of  its  frequent  mounds,  there  would 
be  voices  on  the  ocean,  and  bones  on  its  strand,  to 
tell  a  tale  of  death,  more  wild  and  dark  than  any 
that  ever  yet  knelled  its  terrors  through  the  most 
tragic  dream!  It  is  not  the  tempest,  casting  the 
proud  ship  a  naked  hulk  on  the  deep,  nor  the  rock, 
strewn  with  the  fragments  of  its  perished  strength, 
that  has  wrought  this  scene  of  desolation,  and  filled 
so  many  hearts  with  unavailing  sorrow.  It  is  that 
cup  of  insidious  poison,  mingled  and  mixed,  and 
still  placed  to  his  lips  by  the  government !  Yes,  by 
the  government ! 

Nor  were  those  who  had  a  short  time  since  the 


ISIEMBEES    OF   CONGRESS.  159 

humanity  to  propose,  in  our  national  legislature,  a 
discontinuance  of  this  criminal  conduct,  able  to 
shield  themselves  even  from  an  insulting  levity.  The 
senseless  jest  reached  them,  entrenched,  as  they  were, 
behind  this  appalling  mass  of  misery  and  death. 
^Numbers,  with  whose  names  I  will  not  dishonor  this 
page,  cast  upon  the  earnest,  impassioned  appeal  the 
mockeiy  of  their  sneers !  Such  men  might  con- 
sistently trifle  with  the  despair  of  the  dying,  and 
sport  among  the  bones  of  their  ancestral  dead !  They 
are  a  burlesque  upon  the  solemnities  of  the  legislative 
hall.  They  are  as  unfit  to  lay  their  hands  upon  the 
ark  of  power  as  a  buffoon  to  administer  incense  upon 
the  altars  of  the  sanctuary. 

But  I  forbear.  Let  the  invective  light  only  on  the 
guilty.  It  is  the  imperative  duty  of  those  who  hold 
the  restraints  of  national  law  in  their  hands  to  legis- 
late on  this  subject, — to  withdraw  the  countenance 
and  sanction  which  they  have  given, — to  dash  to  the 
earth  the  fatal  cup  which  they  are  holding  to  the  lips 
of  the  sailor, — and  to  cut  up,  root  and  branch,  this 
deep  evil  in  the  naval  service.  If,  by  any  strange 
perversity  or  recklessness  of  heart,  they  fail  to  do 
this,  they  betray  the  trusts  confided  to  them — they 
betray  the  interests  of  the  navy,  the  interests  of  the 
country,  the  great  cause  of  humanity  ;  and  tlie  blood 
of  thousands  will  be  found  in  their  skirts  in  that  day 
when  men  shall  give  to  God  an  account  of  their 
deeds. 


160  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


As  we  floated  around  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  to  our 
quiet  anchorage,  this  morning,  I  found  my  anticipa- 
tions of  its  formidable  strength,  and  lofty,  uncom- 
promising look,  fully  realized.  It  rises,  bold  and 
majestic,  some  fourteen  hundred  feet  above  the 
water,  and  seems  to  cast  its  stupendous  scorn  upon 
the  menacing  violence  of  the  two  oceans  that  rave  at 
its  base.  These  oceans  may  roll  on,  and  cast  against 
it,  through  ages,  the  shocks  of  their  undecaying 
power,  but  it  will  still  stand  firm,  undaunted  and 
unshaken.  The  unbarred  convulsions  of  the  final 
day  will,  indeed,  heave  it  from  its  foundations,  but 
with  it  will  fill!  the  pillars  which  support  the  vast 
fabric  of  nature. 

This  towering  and  unshaken  Eock  is  a  proud  and 
befitting  representative  of  the  moral  and  political 
power  of  the  sea-girt  isle  ;  and  so  long  as  that  power 
is  wielded  with  the  dignity,  moderation,  and  benign 
efiects  which  now  characterize  it,  I  trust  it  will  prove 
as  indestructible  as  this  mountain  mass.  It  is  filled 
with  a  central  energy,  which  binds  to  itself  the  con- 
fidence of  all  nations  that  revere  virtue  and  respect 
the  sacred  rights  of  man.  Were  this  empire  to  sink 
from  its  present  commanding  elevation,  there  is  no 
community  that  w^ould  not  feel  the  shock,  and  no 
good  man  who  would  not  weep  over  the  ruin.  God 
grant,  that  in  my  last  vision  of  mortal  realities,  I 
may  see  the  unimpaired  power  of  this  noble  realm 
blended  harmoniously  with  the  spreading  influence  of 


FORTIFICATIONS. 


161 


my  own  country,  penetrating  every  clime,  and  per- 
vading all  lands. 

The  lofty  look  of  defiance  which  nature  has 
stamped  on  this  rock  has  been  rendered  still  more 
formidable  and  threatening  by  the  work  of  man.  As 
you  tm-n  yom'  eye  to  it,  you  are  met  below  by  a 
sweeping  series  of  batteries,  bristling  with  their 
engines  of  destruction.  As  you  raise  your  eye 
higher  up,  you  discover  the  fearful  embrasures  of 
long-connected  ranges  of  ordnance,  ready  at  a  breath 
to  convert  the  stupendous  pile  into  .a  blaze  of  terrific 
thunder.  A  thousand  hostile  fleets,  even  before  they 
had  time  to  display  their  impotent  strength,  would 
sink  here,  like  the  bubbles  that  break  around  their 
chafing  keels.  If  this  impregnable  citadel  ever 
passes  from  the  possession  of  Great  Britain,  it  will 
not  be  by  force.  The  giant  of  Gaza  was  despoiled 
of  his  strength  by  stratagem  ;  and  in  this  form,  if 
ever,  will  England  be  deprived  of  her  Gibraltar. 
But  Britannia  is  too  wakeful,  too  full  of  caution,  to 
lay  her  head  on  the  seductive  lap  of  any  Delilah. 

The  history  of  this  mountain  fortress  is  in  keeping 
with  its  native  wildness  and  singularity.  The  an- 
cients, ever  fond  of  connecting  the  origin  of  the  most 
striking  objects  in  natvire  with  the  virtues  of  some  of 
their  fabled  heroes,  ascribed  the  existence  of  this 
rock  to  the  might  of  their  Hercules.  There  was 
something  in  its  solitary  grandeur,  its  fearless,  self- 
relying  aspect,  and  the  depth  and  darkness  of  its 


163  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 

caverned  womb,  that  roused  their  imagination  ;  and 
tliey  cast  over  it  the  mysteries  of  a  deathless  romance. 
This  dream  of  wonder  and  worship  came  down  with 
a  dim  and  thrilling  interest  upon  later  times ;  and 
whenever  a  prince  wished  to  distinguish  himself  in 
some  perilous,  romantic  enterprise,  he  seems  to  have 
laid  siege  to  this  rock. 

Thus,  for  ages,  the  gallant  and  brave  of  all  nations 
appear  to  have  regarded  its  possession  as  a  sort  of 
triumph,  that  could  set  the  highest  and  brightest  seal 
upon  their  adventurous  valor.  At  length  Britannia, 
in  one  of  her  wandering  excursions  over  the  ocean, 
being  struck  w^ith  the  wildness  and  strength  of  its 
bold  features,  determined  to  possess  it,  as  a  sort  ot 
gorgeous  and  solemn  outpost  to  her  spreading  power. 
She  challenged  its  proud  occupants  to  mortal  com- 
bat, and  won  it,  and  gave  her  banner  to  the  breeze 
upon  its  highest  peak.  The  beleaguering  strength 
of  nations  has  since  been  exhausted  to  pull  that  ban- 
ner down  ;  but  it  still  waves  on,  pointing  in  triumph 
and  pride  to  the  sea-girt  isle. 

Every  part  of  Gibraltar,  even  that  which  has  been 
most  aifected  by  the  subduing  power  of  human  inge- 
nuity, has  still  upon  it  a  cast  of  the  romantic.  The 
town  itself  is  reared  upon  parapets  cast  against  its 
less  precipitous  side,  and  scarcely  furnishes  room  for 
one  jostling  street ;  while  higher  up,  as  if  half  sus- 
pended in  air,  hundreds  of  toppling  habitations  may 
be  seen  fastened  to  the  face  of  the  rock.    Thus  fifteen 


VAEIETIE8   OF   POPULATION.  103 

or  twenty  thousand  dwell,  looking  down  upon  tlie 
roof  of  their  nearest  neighbor  in  a  series  so  steep 
that  even  the  shrub,  in  its  fear  of  falling,  strikes  its 
roots  with  an  unwonted  pertinacity. 

Where  the  side  becomes  too  nearly  perpendicular 
to  admit  the  construction  of  a  support  for  the  artille- 
ry, the  rock  has  been  entered,  and  long  tiers  of  gal- 
leries cut  in  its  solid  recesses.  The  heavy  guns,  as 
if  they  might  be  rendered  giddy  by  their  elevation, 
scarcely  look  from  their  dark  ports,  except  when  an 
enemy  may  heave  in  sight,  and  then  they  will  speak 
to  him  in  a  voice  which  the  timid  never  mistake,  and 
even  the  fearless  can  never  withstand. 

There  is  also  something  strikingly  picturesque  in 
the  varied  aspect  of  the  population :  almost  every 
nation  is  here  appropriately  represented.  Here  is 
the  Briton,  in  the  substantial  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  office ;  the  mercenary  soldier,  who  perhaps  never 
knew  his  parentage,  or  knew  it  only  to  run  away 
from  it,  going  through  his  evolutions  with  a  crank- 
ness  and  precision  which  mocks  the  automatons  of 
Maelzel ;  the  stout  Moor,  with  his  broad  benevolent 
face,  and  his  tm-ban  still  true  to  the  prophet ;  the 
bearded  Jew,  peddling  his  false  jewels,  and  expect- 
ing the  day  of  his  deliverance ;  the  Greek,  with  his 
restless  air,  and  the  cunning  of  his  ever-flashing  eye ; 
the  Italian,  living  upon  a  crust  of  bread,  and  draw- 
ing from  every  instrument  you  may  name  the  tones 
of  its  slumbering  melody ;  the  Frenchman,  polite  in 


164  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


>'^: 


his  last  shirt,  and  whistling  over  his  misfortunes ; 
the  German,  silently  and  snugly  amassing  a  fortune 
for  some  unborn  nephew ;  the  Irishman,  drinking 
his  last  penny  in  a  health  to  the  Emerald  Isle,  and 
vowing,  by  St.  Patrick,  that  it  is  the  sweetest  conti- 
nent in  the  world  ;  and  the  Spaniard,  with  his  dark 
piercing  eye,  his  sinewy  limbs  and  trusty  blade, 
ready  for  any  enterprise  that  the  gallows  and  grave 
have  attempted  to  obstruct. 

These  are  only  a  few  of  the  more  prominent  figures 
in  the  picture ;  more  retired  are  groups  where  one 
might  speculate  for  years.  Indeed,  if  I  wished  to 
take  to  a  distant  planet  a  just  specimen  of  this  world, 
in  the  most  condensed  form,  and  had  the  Herculean 
power  requisite,  I  would  carry  off  Gibraltar.  I  should 
find,  in  my  gregarious  wallet,  some  of  the  best  and 
worst  specimens  of  human  nature,  with  most  of  the 
intermediate  links.  All  religions,  trades,  professions, 
and  pursuits  are  tolerated  and  thrive  here. 

There  is  no  pope,  it  is  true,  but  the  mass  is  said 
and  sung  with  an  emphasis ;  there  is  no  high  vicar 
of  the  prophet,  but  the  Koran  is  read,  and  the  hou- 
ried  paradise  anticipated ;  there  is  no  sanhedrim, 
but  the  chant  of  the  synagogue  is  heard,  and  the 
promised  Messiah  still  expected ;  there  is  no  lectur- 
ing Esculapius,  but  the  doctors  nevertheless  learn 
how  to  cure  or  kill ;  there  are  no  tread-mills  or  en- 
tailed estates,  but  the  lawyers  still  find  fees  ;  there  is 
no  water-fall,  but  the  fabric  still  goes  on,  under  hu- 


MOTTNTED    GALLERIES.  165 

man  liands ;  there  is  no  arable  earth,  but  the  deli- 
cious plant  is  still  reared  into  maturity ;  there  is  no 
protection  for  commerce,  but  the  din  of  a  bustling 
mart  is  incessant  on  the  ear ;  there  is  no  court, 
but  the  trappings  of  nobility  are  constantly  flash- 
ing on  the  eye ;  there  is  no  Draco,  with  his  bloody 
code,  but  the  bailifl"  gets  his  fee,  and  the  hangman 
is  fed ! 

The  large  and  well-selected  library  of  the  garrison, 
in  its  elegant,  commodious  building,  with  its  reading- 
room  supplied  with  periodicals  from  the  different 
quarters  of  the  world,  was  a  retreat  from  which  I  re- 
luctantly forced  myself  away.  A  stranger,  who  ex- 
pects to  spend  any  time  here,  should  by  all  means 
get  introduced  to  the  library. 

Another  object  of  interest  here,  at  least  as  long  as 
its  novelty  lasts,  is  the  beautiful  Parade-ground,  re- 
tired a  little  to  the  south  of  the  bustling  town.  You 
may  here  listen  to  the  music  of  a  powerful  military 
band ;  or  witness,  in  the  exact  and  simultaneous  mo- 
tions of  the  troops,  how  entirely  a  creature  of  system 
and  position  an  English  soldier  is  ;  or  you  may  see 
the  dai-k  Genoese  darting  by,  and  only  casting  a  fur- 
tive glance  to  see  how  her  man  of  the  red  coat  shows 
on  parade.  Near  by  you  will  find  many  snug  cot- 
tages, picturesquely  cast  into  the  airy  nooks  of  the 
rock,  shaded  by  the  spreading  fig-tree,  or  the  more 
majestic  palm,  or  the  ambitious  vine  dropping  its 
festoons  around  the  slight  corridor ;  while  the  varied 


166  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 

flowers  of  many  climes  cast  up  from  their  small  par- 
terre the  perfume  of  their  mingled  sweets. 

Another  excursion  of  interest  is  to  the  excavations. 
We  were  taken  through  these  by  Mr.  H.,  our  late 
consul  at  this  place,  a  gentleman  of  polite  bearing 
and  of  extensive  information.  The  galleries  were 
sufficiently  high  for  Mrs.  11.  to  ride  through  their 
whole  extent  without  once  dismounting  her  donkey. 
They  are  cut  at  some  depth  from  the  face  of  the  rock ; 
their  gloom  and  darkness  is  relieved  only  by  the 
light  which  struggles  past  the  muzzle  of  the  guns,  as 
they  look  out  menacing  the  world  below,  with  the 
heavy  metal  which  lies  hugely  piled  around  them. 

Looking  from  these  lofty  galleries,  you  feel  per- 
fectly secure  from  the  utmost  violence  of  a  besieging 
enemy, — which  to  me  would  be  not  at  all  disagreea- 
ble,— and,  at  the  same  time,  you  feel  that  every 
thing  beneath  you  is  at  your  mercy.  If  it  be  a  fleet, 
you  see  that  you  can  send  the  plunging  ball  through 
the  deck,  while  not  a  shot  can  mount  to  your  posi- 
tion ;  or  if  it  be  a  breastwork,  you  can  strike  it  as 
the  eagle,  in  his  rushing  swoop,  strikes  his  prey  on 
the  exposed  plain.  These  excavations  are  a  per- 
petual monument  of  the  enterprise  and  hardihood  of 
the  English. 

From  these  central  regions  we  ascended  a  spiral 
stairway  to  the  top  of  the  rock,  and  from  thence  on 
to  the  signal-tower,  upon  its  highest  summit.  Here 
a  corps  of  observation  is  stationed,  who  communicate 


ST.  Michael's  cave.  167 


the  arrival  of  ships  in  the  straits,  and  who  announce, 
rrom  a  small  battery,  the  rising  and  setting  of  the 
sun.  From  this  elevation  your  prospect  is  eminently 
commanding.  Tou  see  Atiica,  stretching  away  with 
a  gloomy  aspect  that  well  comports  with  her  history 
of  strife  and  disaster.  On  the  other  hand,  you  dis- 
cover the  nearer  coast  of  Spain,  sending  the  glad 
tribute  of  its  waters  to  the  sea,  and  the  wild  ranges 
of  its  more  distant  moimtains,  heaving  into  the  blue 
sky  the  glittering  pinnacles  of  their  eternal  ice.  Far 
over  the  intervening  land  rolls  the  broad  Atlantic ; 
while  less  remote  lies  the  Mediterranean,  in  all  the 
brightness  and  beauty  of  that  hour  when  the  morn- 
ing stars  first  sang  together  over  its  unveiled  face. 

From  this  position  we  w'andered  to  St.  Michael's 
cave,  whose  winding  depths  lead  down  among  the 
foundations  of  the  rock.  You  enter  by  a  small  aper- 
ture, half  concealed  by  shrubs,  and  which  really 
promises  but  little  in  compensation  for  your  pains. 
But  when  you  have  got  fairly  within,  and  see  the 
outline  of  objects  dimly  revealed  in  the  light  that 
strays  through  the  narrow  opening, — the  stalactites 
descending  in  columned  beauty  from  the  fretted 
vault  to  the  well-formed  pedestal, — the  arch,  sweep- 
ing from  pillar  to  pillar  with  architectural  symmetry 
and  precision, — the  dark  portals  of  other  caverns 
leading  down  to  regions  unknown, — you  are  as  much 
surprised  at  the  inward  as  outward  structm-e  of  this 
singular  mass. 


168  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


It  was  here  that  the  devoted  live  hundred  con- 
cealed themselves  through  a  long  anxious  day,  till 
the  shadows  of  night  again  concealed  their  invading 
movements  from  the  enemy.  They  had  vowed  never 
to  return,  till  they  had  won  back  this  Rock  to  the 
Spanish  crown.  They  had  taken  the  sacrament, 
been  shrived  by  their  priest,  and  were  thus  doubly 
armed — not  having  before  them  the  fear  of  this  world 
or  the  next.  They  succeeded  during  the  first  night 
in  climbing  to  this  cave,  where  they  remained  un- 
discovered through  the  succeeding  day.  Upon  the 
following  night,  they  drew  up,  by  the  help  of  rope- 
ladders,  other  bold  companions  to  their  aid,  and  were 
now  ready  for  the  decisive  blow. 

But  a  trifling  misunderstanding  occurring  at  this 
critical  moment,  they  were  discovered, — attacked  by 
a  powerful  detachment  from  the  garrison, — driven 
over  the  precipice,  or  slain  on  the  spot — battling  it 
to  the  last  breath.  I  could  not  but  feel,  as  I  stood  on 
that  spot,  an  indescribable  sentiment  of  sympathy 
for  the  disastrous  fate  of  those  gallant  men.  The 
question  of  their  success,  or  failure,  appears  to  have 
been  suspended  upon  a  hair.  But  valor  in  this  world 
seems  to  be  destined  to  an  early  grave,  while  skulk- 
ing cowardice  lives  out  its  lengthened  life  of  shame. 

Monkeys  in  considerable  numbers,  at  certain  sea- 
sons of  the  year,  make  their  appearance  among  the 
heights  above.  They  come,  as  report  says,  from  the 
AMcan  shore,  under  the  rushing  straits,  in  a  tunnel. 


HTMAN   ORIGINALS. 


169 


— probably  less  magnificent  than  that  beneath  the 
Thames — and  reaching  some  of  these  lowest  caverns, 
mount  through  them  to  the  upper  regions  of  light. 
They  manifest  such  a  degree  of  sagacity  and  cunning, 
that  I  should  advise  any  one,  who  thinks  of  adopting 
Monboddo's  theory  of  man's  original  formation,  to 
come  here  and  strengthen  his  incipient  convictions. 

These  gentlemen  of  the  tail  are  sometimes  pursued 
by  some  of  their  two-legged  neighbors  ;  and  on  such 
occasions,  when  hard  pushed,  they  are  prone  to  turn 
a  quick,  short  corner,  upon  the  giddy  verge  of  the 
rock,  and  let  their  eager  pursuer,  who  is  unable  in 
like  manner  to  arrest  his  momentum,  plunge  off  the 
fatal  steep.  Though  this  is  not  exactly  destroying  an 
adversary  by  giving  him  battle,  yet  it  is  killing  him 
in  a  much  handsomer  way. 

I  recommend,  also,  all  molesters  of  society  to  come 

here,  and  leani  how  easy  it  is  even  for  a  monkey  to 

out-wit  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace.     Say  what 

we  will,  the  monkey  has  many  of  the  traits  which 

belong  to  a  modern-cut  gentleman.     He  carries,  it  is 

true,  no  quizzing-glass ;  but  then  he  keeps  looking 

and  winking  and  staring,  just  as  he  would,  were  he 

using  that  elegant  ocular  aid.     His  tail,  to  be  sure,  is 

rather  an  embarrassment,  but  this  is  no  fault  of  his  ; 

and  I  always  feel,  when  surveying  his  person,  a  pity- 

ino;  regret  that  nature  should  have  thought  it  neces- 

sary  to  afflict  him  with  this  most  singular,  and  wholly 

superfluous  appendage ! 

8 


170  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


On  tlie  day  of  our  departure  from  Gibraltar,  we 
were  favored  with  tlie  company  of  an  engaging  party 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  came  on  board  at  the 
invitation  of  Capt.  and  Mrs,  Head,  with  whom  they 
dined.  In  the  course  of  the  day  we  sailed  across  the 
bay  to  Algeciras,  where  we  obtained  a  clean  bill  of 
health  from  its  kind  governor,  for  the  purpose  of 
evading  the  quarantine  laws  of  Malaga. 

There  is  a  sort  of  family  understanding  here,  that 
a  ship  passing  from  one  port  to  another  of  the  same 
nation,  shall  be  exempted  from  all  lazaretto  embar- 
rassments. It  was  an  amiable  act  in  the  governor, 
and  I  wish  it  were  in  our  power  to  return  it.  The 
company  appeared  in  excellent  spirits,  and  the  occa- 
sion passed  off  with  unusual  animation.  Mr.  P.,  our 
present  consul,  and  his  lady,  to  our  regret,  were  ab- 
sent. But  we  could  scarcely  grieve  over  the  absence 
of  the  best  of  friends,  while  listening  to  the  music  of 
a  Spanish  lady  who  composed  one  of  the  company. 
Her  deep  and  elastic  voice,  full  of  sw^eetness  and 
energy,  passed  through  the  wide  compass  of  its 
powers  with  a  thrilling  force.  In  its  lowest  tones,  it 
had  a  singular  fulness  and  strength,  and  yet  ap- 
peared to  lose  none  of  its  expressive  melody,  even 
in  that  light  and  vanishing  strain  in  which  the  music 
seems  to  linger  when  the  lips  have  ceased  to  breathe. 
Her  light  and  easy  hand  would  now  just  touch  the 
strings  that  answered  in  soft  unison  ;  and  now  sweep 
them  as  if  calling  up  their  harmonies  from  some 


DREAM   OF   A   MEEJIAID.  lYl 

profound  slumber.  I  could  have  listened  till  anotlier 
sun  had  risen;  but  the  one  now  setting  compelled 
our  friends  to  think  of  the  shore ;  and  so  we  parted 
— thej  to  their  cheerful  homes — we  to  the  winds  and 
waves  of  the  Mediterranean. 

Whether  it  may  be  ascribed  to  that  apprehension 
of  disaster,  which  we  ever  experience  on  parting  with 
friends,  or  to  the  tragical  cast  of  the  music  to  which 
we  had  been  listening,  I  know  not,  but — 

That  night  I  dreamed  while  in  my  hammock  swinging, 
Our  ship  had  suddenly  become  a  wreck  ; 

The  booming  wave  was  in  my  dull  ear  ringing, 
As  I  went  downward  from  the  parted  deck ; 

While  far  above,  the  hoarsely  sounding  surge 

Was  murmuring  to  the  rocks  my  funeral  dirge 

A  mermaid  gliding  from  her  coral  cave. 
And  bearing  in  her  hand  a  scallop-shell. 

Hovered  around  me  in  my  sea-green  grave, 
And  played  the  air,  on  earth  I  liked  so  well. 

It  is  an  air  which  he  who  sings  or  hears, 

However  gay,  will  find  himself  in  tears. 

She  breathed  it  through  her  sweetly  sounding  shell ; 

And  as  she  reached  that  closing,  tragic  strain, 
Where  wildly  dies  away  Love's  last  farewell, 

So  long  did  her  reluctant  lips  retain 
The  parting  sound  in  their  melodious  breath, 
I  quite  forgot  the  agonies  of  death. 

And  there  I  lay  upon  my  watery  bier. 
Enchanted  by  this  minstrel  of  the  deep : 

The  strain  had  ceased,  yet  still  she  hovered  near, 
And  seemed,  as  with  a  sister's  love,  to  keep 

A  tender  vigil  o'er  the  troubled  slumbers. 

Which  she  had  soothed  with  her  celestial  numbers. 


172  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  morning  stars,  that  hymned  the  Earth's  creation 
In  melodies  which  charmed  the  listening  spheres, 

Now  fading  into  dawn,  desert  their  station, 

But  leave  in  dew-drops  round  their  farewell  tears  ; 

"While  Cynthia  pales  at  young  Aurora's  painting, 

Like  timid  bride,  at  nuptial  altar  fainting. 

MALAGA COMING  TO  ANCHOK CATHEDRAL TOMB  OF  MOLIANA FIDDLES 

AND  ORGANS  IN  CHURCHES CASTLE  OF  THE  MOORS HOURS  OF  A  MALA- 

GUENA — TRAITS    OF    A    SINGULAR    BANDIT — A  SPANISH  LADY TWILIGHT 

AND  THE  PROMENADE A  FUNERAL. 

"We  dropped  anclior  in  the  bay  of  Malaga  at  a 
late  hour  last  night,  and  fully  experienced  that  illu- 
sion of  distance,  which  objects  discovered  at  sea,  and 
especially  by  star-light,  never  fail  to  create.  I  would 
have  ventured  any  thing  on  the  conjecture,  that  we 
were  not  more  than  a  good  cable's  length  from  the 
landing,  when,  as  it  afterwards  proved,  we  were  over 
a  league. 

This  is  a  happy  provision  in  nature,  for  otherwise 
we  might,  under  a  quick  wind,  a  rapid  sea,  and  per- 
haps a  nodding  watch,  be  carried  against  the  rock 
before  we  had  time  to  haul  our  wind,  whereas  we 
may  now  apparently  strike  it  with  our  jib-boom,  and 
still  have  room  to  wear  ship.  Those  who  are  prone 
to  regard  the  imperfections  of  man  in  a  light  that 


TOlffi   OF  MOLIAITA.  173 


impugns  the  divine  benevolence,  may  here  find,  even 
in  our  infirmities,  the  means  of  our  safety. 

One  of  the  first  objects  to  which  we  directed  our 
steps  upon  reaching  the  shore,  was  the  cathedral — a 
magnificent,  stately  pile — towering,  in  splendor  and 
pride,  far  above  the  humble  habitations  around.  The 
style  of  its  architecture  is  a  mixture  of  the  Koman 
and  Gothic — a  union  which  has  here  been  efiected 
upon  a  colossal  scale,  with  a  happy  and  impressive 
efiect.  The  interior  presents  an  oblong  spheroid,  with 
a  double  row  of  Corinthian  pillars,  rising  in  marble 
richness  and  stability  from  the  centre  of  the  nave  to 
the  dome,  which  sweeps  down  in  well-turned  arches 
upon  the  lofty  entablatures.  The  high  altar  and 
pulpit  are  of  fine  flesh-colored  marble,  and  the  choir 
of  exquisite  workmanship.  It  contains  about  fifty 
stalls,  richly  wrought  in  mahogany,  and  several 
statues  of  saints,  by  celebrated  artists. 

The  monument  of  the  late  bishop  Don  Jesse  de 
Moliana  is  well  conceived,  and  tastefully  executed. 
The  dying  prelate  is  represented  on  his  tomb,  in  an 
inclined  posture,  leaning  faintly  on  his  hand,  and 
looking  calmly  up  with  that  serene  confidence  which 
triumphs  over  the  terrors  of  death.  The  meekness 
and  fidelity  with  which  he  is  reported  to  liave  dis- 
charged his  sacred  functions,  and  his  munificent 
donations  to  this  church,  might  well  secure  for  him  a 
lasting  memorial. 

Though  this   cathedral  is   seldom  mentioned  by 


174  SHIP   AND   SHOKE. 


travellers,  yet  it  is  well  worthy  of  being  classed 
among  tlie  marvels  of  modern  architecture.  The 
area  embraced  within  its  walls  is  four  hundred  feet 
in  length  by  two  hundred  and  sixty  in  breadth,  with 
a  hundred  and  forty  to  the  height  of  its  arches, — giv- 
ing it  dimensions  approaching  those  of  the  temple 
which  has  brought  so  many  thousand  pilgrims  to 
Home. 

The  two  organs,  with  their  deep,  rich  tones,  gave 
an  air  of  solemnity  and  inspiration  to  the  place  more 
impressive  than  the  spreading  incense  of  the  altar, 
the  majesty  of  the  pillared  dome,  or  the  hallowing 
twilight,  which  softly  bathed  each  object.  While 
listening  to  these  noble  instruments,  in  the  sublime 
part  they  bore  in  the  anthem,  I  could  not  but  feel  a 
mortifying  regret  at  the  mistaken  hostility  with  which 
so  many  in  my  own  country  regard  these  moving 
aids  to  the  devotions  of  the  sanctuary.  In  some  ot 
our  churches  even  a  sober  bass-viol  is  not  tolerated, 
and  a  wind  instrument  is  looked  upon  as  the  very 
hornpipe  of  the  devil.  I  do  not  suppose  that  our  as- 
pirations will  be  very  much  deepened  or  elevated  by 
the  trills  of  a  reed  or  the  quavers  of  a  string.  But 
this  is  no  reason  why  an  instrument,  which  can  in- 
deed "  discourse  eloquent  music,"  and  especially  the 
organ,  with  its  solemnity  and  power,  should  be  ex- 
pelled from  our  worship. 

True,  it  has  not  an  innate  sense  of  its  melodious 
vocation^or  a  soul  of  conscious  penitence  or  praise  ; 


CASTLE   OF  THE  MOOES.  !""> 

nor  has  the  human  voice ;  yet  both  may  easily  aid 
and  express,  in  some  degree,  the  fervors  of  our  rever- 
ent homage.  David,  whose  inspired  harmonies  still 
live  in  the  church,  and  will  while  there  is  a  grateful 
penitent  upon  earth,  celebrated  the  "  loving-kindness 
and  faithfulness"  of  his  benevolent  Preserver  "  upon 
an  instrument  of  ten  strings,  upon  the  psaltry  and 
upon  the  harp,  with  a  solemn  sound."  "When  our 
sanctity  shall  exceed  his,  it  may  perhaps  be  an  ad- 
ditional indication  of  piety  and  wisdom  to  dispense 
with  all  these  auxiliaries  in  our  religious  services. 

Our  next  object  of  curiosity  was  a  castle  built  by 
the  Moors,  on  an  elevation,  from  which  it  subter- 
raneously  communicates  with  the  city,  and  commands 
the  harbor.  It  is  still  in  a  state  of  good  preservation, 
and  from  several  inscriptions  found  on  the  blocks,  of 
which  its  foundations  are  composed,  evidently  occu- 
pies the  site  of  a  Roman  temple,  and  has  been  reared 
to  some  extent  from  the  materials  of  that  classic  edi- 
fice. This  is  one  of  those  strongholds  in  which  the 
power  of  the  Moors  took  its  last  stand  ;  and  where  it 
w^as  finally  compelled  to  surrender  to  the  superior 
force  of  Ferdinand. 

The  castle  is  now  useless  to  its  friends  and  harm- 
less to  its  enemies,  though  a  few  appendages  of  mod- 
ern fortifications  might  easily  render  it  a  source  ot 
safety  to  the  one  and  terror  to  the  other.  But  Spain 
appears  to  be  satisfied  with  her  past  achievements ; 
she  is  now  impotent  at  a  thousand  points,  where  the 


176  snip   AND    SnOEE. 


least  energy  and  enterprise  might  render  her  invul- 
nerable. Nations,  like  individuals,  when  they  have 
begun  to  fall,  neglect  the  easiest  means  of  preserving 
their  tottering  dignity  and  influence.  The  proud 
throne  of  the  Ferdinands  now  exists  only  by  the  for- 
bearance of  many  a  power  upon  which  it  once  looked 
down  in  contemptuous  scorn.  "  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen,  and  the  weapons  of  war  perished !" 

In  our  rambles  about  Malaga  we  found  all  her 
streets  narrow,  but  many  of  them  preserving  a  decent 
regard  to  cleanliness.  Her  buildings  are  usually  of 
two  stories,  with  balconies,  where  pots  of  delicious 
plants  and  flowers  cast  their  fragrance,  and  where 
sometimes  the  black-eyed  Malaguena  may  be  seen 
lingering  around  them  with  a  lightness  and  gayety 
but  half  concealed  by  the  lattice  of  the  cool  veranda. 
There  she  sits  by  the  side  of  the  rose,  whicli  is  not 
more  fresh  and  fair  than  is  her  cheek,  and  near  her 
canary,  whose  musical  voice  is  never  hushed  save 
when  her  own  is  heard  ;  and  she  passes  oflf  her  light- 
some hours  in  casting  the  rich  figure  upon  the  em- 
broidered veil,  or  touching  her  guitar  to  one  of  those 
strains  which  convert  the  dull  realities  of  life  into  a 
sweet  romance.  She  is  not  disturbed  by  your  listen- 
ing ear ;  her  music  still  breathes  on  like  that  of  the 
nightingale,  which  the  hushed  w-oodland  catches  and 
returns  in  mellow  echo. 

How  difierent  this  from  that  unrelaxed  gravity, 
that  never  smiles  when  it  is  pleased,  and  never  weeps 


TEAITS   OF  AN    OUTLAW.  IT 7 


when  it  is  sad !  Give  me  the  human  heart  with  all 
its  susceptibilities,  sympathies,  and  emotions,  un- 
chained and  unblighted,  and  then  diffuse  through  its 
quick  nature  the  hallowing  and  harmonizing  in- 
fluences of  religion,  and  earth  has  not  an  object  of 
more  thrilling  interest  and  beauty. 

Malaga,  though  it  embraces  a  population  of  sixty 
thousand,  and  in  commercial  importance  is  ranked 
the  third  city  in  Spain,  yet  it  presents  not  many  ob- 
jects of  curious  interest  to  the  stranger.  But  what  it 
wants  in  objects  which  usually  interest  the  traveller, 
it  seems  to  atone  for  in  the  bold  adventurous  charac- 
ter of  the  outlaws  who  occasionally  disturb  the  peace 
and  safety  of  its  borders.  The  most  conspicuous  of 
these  freebooters  is  Jose  Maria,  whose  history  will 
hereafter,  I  doubt  not,  furnish  the  elements  of  some 
absorbing  romance.  He  considered  himself,  as  it 
appears,  wronged  out  of  that  political  j)osition  to 
which  his  talents  and  services  justly  entitled  him, 
and  in  his  indignant  mortification  determined  to  pun- 
ish the  neglect  and  ingratitude  by  assuming  and  en- 
forcing an  attitude  that  might  set  the  prejudiced 
decisions  and  partial  laws  of  the  times  at  defiance. 
He  collected  a  band  of  faithful,  fearless  spirits,  and 
proclaimed  himself  general-in-chief  of  Granada  and 
king  of  the  roads.  If  a  thorough  maintenance  of  as- 
sumed authority  can  establish  it  in  respect  and  ap- 
probation of  mankind,  then  no  one  will  feel  disposed 
to  question  the-titles  of  Jose  Maria. 

8*  m 


178  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


He  is  a  chivalrous  reformer,  a  gallant  leveller  of 
those  invidious  distinctions  which  the  inequalities  of 
property  never  fail  to  create.  A  fundamental  princi- 
ple in  his  innovating  code  appears  to  be,  that  as 
wealth  is  generally  an  adventitious  circumstance,  a 
participation  in  its  benefits  should  not  be  denied  to 
those  who  have  been  less  favored  of  fortune.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  his  disposal  of  all  the  contributions 
which  he  levies  upon  the  traveller  and  citizen,  he 
manifests  a  scrupulous  regard  to  the  demands  of  the 
poor,  reserving  to  himself  only  a  sufficiency  for  the 
support  of  his  hardy  clan. 

His  mode  of  operation  has  none  of  that  creeping, 
skulking  meanness  and  cruelty  about  it,  which  so  fre- 
quently disfigure  the  character  of  the  outlaw.  He 
rides  in  broad  daylight  into  the  neighborhood  of  some 
town  or  village,  summons  individually  the  more 
wealthy  portion  of  its  inhabitants  to  appear  before 
him,  and  then  names  a  definitive  sum,  which  they 
must  deliver  to  him  in  a  specific  number  of  hours. 
They  do  not  dare  to  disregard  the  summons  or  refuse 
the  amount  demanded.  This  levy,  reaching  in  some 
instances  a  very  large  amount,  he  distributes,  with 
a  slight  reserve  for  himself,  among  the  poorer  classes 
of  that  community. 

He  has  never  been  known  to  shed  blood,  nor  is  he 
often  under  the  necessity  of  resorting  to  violent 
threats.  The  traveller  discovers  at  once  that  resist- 
ance would  be  vain,  and  yields  with  as  good  a  grace 


TRAITS   OF   AN   OUTLAW.  1T9 

as  he  can.  Tet  the  gallant  robber  will  by  no  means 
deprive  hira  of  his  last  farthing,  bnt  leave  him 
enough,  with  due  economy,  to  reach  his  destination, 
or  some  place  where  he  may  replenish  his  funds. 
Sometimes,  when  the  individual  happens  to  be  a 
wealthy  citizen  of  Spain,  travelling  perhaps  a  short 
distance,  without  much  encumbrance  of  specie  about 
his  person,  Jose  Maria  furnishes  him  with  pen,  ink, 
and  paper,  and  a  suggestion — rather  an  embarrassing 
one,  to  be  sure — for  him  to  draw  on  his  banker  for  a 
few  thousands,  and  then  politely  entertains  his  guest 
till  the  draft  has  been  presented  and  the  funds  pro- 
cured ;  and  even  then  he  is  not  discharged  without 
an  allowance  sufficient  for  his  comfortable  retm-n 
home. 

In  this  manner  he  detained,  not  long  since,  in  his 
little  encampment,  even  the  governor  of  Malaga. 
The  only  consequence  was,  that  his  excellency  re- 
turned from  his  morning  ride  with  a  pile  or  two  less 
of  doubloons  in  his  drawer  than  what  he  possessed 
upon  mounting  his  steed ;  and  many  widows  and 
orphans  had  another  donation  to  expect  from  their 
wild  benefactor. 

Another  striking  trait  in  the  character  of  Jose  Ma- 
ria is  his  uniform  courtesy  to  the  ladies.  So  far  from 
offering  them  the  slightest  indignity,  it  is  an  offence 
which  he  punishes  in  his  ranks  with  death.  He 
does,  indeed,  require  them  to  aid  him  in  the  support 
of  the  numerous  objects  dependent  on  his  bounty ; 


180  SHIP  AKD  snoEE. 


hilt  lie  makes  his  demand  with  so  much  politeness, 
with  snch  a  gentlemanly^  bearing,  that  they  could 
hardly  have  the  disposition  to  refuse,  even  were  it  in 
their  power.  But  when  the  intercepted  lady  proves 
to  be  destitute  of  funds,  he  generously  supplies  her 
with  the  means  of  pursuing  her  journey,  and  parts 
with  her  upon  such  terms  that  she  will  smile  in  her 
sleep  as  she  dreams  of  him  through  many  a  night 
afterwards. 

A  lady  of  large  fortune,  wishing  recently  to  travel 
from  Malaga  to  Madrid,  sent  out  to  Jose  and  ob- 
tained a  passport,  for  which  she  paid  fifty  dollars ; 
but  it  so  happened,  owing  to  some  very  natural  mis- 
take on  the  part  of  the  courtly  king  of  the  roads,  that 
she  was  stopped  on  her  route.  She  had,  however, 
only  to  present  her  passport,  when  a  handsome  apol- 
ogy was  made  for  the  interruption,  and  she  was 
allowed  to  proceed  on  her  way  with  many  kind 
wishes.  The  gallant  freebooter  never  violates  his 
word. 

Several  Englishmen,  recently  travelling  through 
Spain,  were  intercepted  by  this  gentlemanly  robber, 
who  exercised  considerable  liberty  with  their  heavy 
purses,  but  allowed  them  to  retain  sufficient  to  take 
them  to  a  town  where  they  could  draw  on  their 
bankers.  Upon  parting  with  them,  he  good-humor- 
edly  remarked,  that  as  English  travellers  were  in  the 
habit  of  writing  and  publishing  joimials,  he  trusted 
they  would  speak  of  him  in  those  terms  of  respect  to 


TKAIT8   OF  AN   OTJTLAW.  181 

which  he  was  justly  entitled.  They  might  call  him 
a  robber,  an  outlaw :  to  these  appellations  he  had  no 
objections  ;  but  they  must  not  write  him  down  a 
bloody  blackguard ;  for  his  reputation  was  much 
dearer  to  him  than  his  life.  John  Bull  then  depart- 
ed, in  vexation,  to  be  sure,  for  the  loss  of  the  money, 
but  with  an  admirino;  astonishment  at  the  ooen  and 
courtly  manner  in  which  it  had  been  exacted. 

Another  redeeming  characteristic  in  Jose  Maria  is 
his  ardent  love  of  liberty.  When  a  person  has  fallen 
under  the  ban  for  the  freedom  of  his  political  opin- 
ions, this  friend  of  the  oppressed  frequently  effects 
his  entire  release.  The  expedients  by  which  he  ac- 
complishes this  are  novel  and  various  ;  but  they  all 
bespeak  a  singular  shrewdness  of  intellect  and  ener- 
gy of  conduct. 

A  man  of  considerable  distinction  was  recently 
condemned  to  the  gallows,  as  entertaining  sentiments 
too  republican  for  the  despotical  nature  of  the  times, 
Jose  therefore  just  took  into  custody,  as  hostages, 
three  or  four  monks,  and  informed  the  proper  au- 
thorities, that  in  case  the  capital  sentence  should  be 
executed  on  the  prisoner,  the  heads  of  these  monks 
should  roll  after  him  to  the  grave.  The  menace  had 
the  intended  effect.  The  captive  was  released  ;  and 
the  men  of  saintly  garb  were  allowed  to  return  to 
their  books  and  beads.  Sometimes  he  even  enters 
the  place  of  execution,  and  rescues  the  noble  victim 
while  ascending  the  scaffold.     His  very  name  strikes 


182  SHIP   AISTD   SHORE. 


a  terror  into  tyranny,  and  disarms  the  miscreants 
that  riot  in  its  cruelties. 

Many  efibrts  have  been  made  by  the  Spanish  au- 
thorities to  take  Jose  Maria,  and  bring  him  to  an  ig- 
nominious death ;  but  they  have  proved  unsuccessfuL 
The  mountain  fastness,  the  blades  of  his  trusty  fol- 
lowers, the  voice  of  the  thousands  he  has  fed,  and, 
above  all,  his  own  exhaustless  genius,  have  been  his 
defence.  He  has  his  regular  brokers  in  Malaga  to 
facilitate  his  operations  ;  and  he  has  also  a  timid 
Medora  here,  whom  he  frequently  visits  in  the  stormy 
night,  and  with  whom  he  talks  over  the  perils  of  his 
present  condition,  and  a  hope  of  better  days  to  come. 
It  is  presumed  by  many  that  her  gentle  influence 
will  induce  him  at  length  to  abandon  his  adventur- 
ous life,  and  accept  a  situation  under  a  government 
that  is  already  willing  to  purchase  his  alliance,  at 
almost  any  price. 

Before  leaving  this  ancient  town  of  Spain,  I  must 
pause  a  moment  at  the  Alameda,  the  most  attractive 
spot  in  Malaga.  This  green  promenade,  shaded  with 
orange  and  oleander  trees,  occupies  a  spacious  place 
in  the  most  elegant  portion  of  the  city.  It  is  orna- 
mented with  a  superb  fountain,  ever  showering  its 
refreshing  waters  among  groups  of  marble  statues, 
which  have  all  the  frolic  and  garmentless  glee  of  the 
bath  !  This  fountain  was  a  present  from  the  repub- 
lic of  Genoa  to  the  emperor  Charles  Y. ;  and  after 
having  passed  through  the  vicissitudes  of  being  cap- 


THE   SPAlflSH   LADY.  183 

tnred  by  an  Algerine  corsair,  and  of  fortunately  be- 
ing retaken,  was  brought  to  this  port,  and  finally 
placed  where  it  now  stands. 

But  the  Alameda,  at  the  purpling  twilight,  has  a 
still  lovelier  sight  than  this.  It  is  not  beauty  in  the 
changeless  representations  of  marble,  but  in  the  full 
pulse  and  play  of  real  life.  At  this  mellowing  hour, 
the  fair  Malaguena  may  be  seen,  gliding  away  with 
the  family  group  from  the  restricted  corridor,  to  this 
more  ample  and  animating  promenade.  Her  man- 
tilla falls  in  light  flowing  folds  over  the  glossy  clus- 
ters of  her  raven  locks,  and  seems  so  attracted  by 
the  charms  which  it  half  conceals,  that  it  scarcely 
needs  even  the  delicate  confinement  of  the  jewelled 
hand  that  now  and  then  adjusts  its  condition.  Her 
basquinia,  with  its  deep  tasselled  festoons,  falls  from 
the  cinctm-e  of  the  slight  waist,  in  spreading  adapta- 
tion to  the  fuller  developments  of  her  form,  down  to 
an  ankle,  over  which  it  scarcely  consents  to  extend 
the  obscuring  veil  of  its  drapery.  Her  small  round 
foot,  which  seems  at  every  moment  in  the  act  of 
leaping  from  its  little  slipper,  leaves  the  earth,  and 
lights  upon  it  again,  with  most  exquisite  grace  and 
precision.  Her  countenance,  ever  partaking  more  of 
thoughtfulness  than  mirth,  has  the  carnation  melting 
through  the  transparent  cheek,  the  slumber  of  a 
smile  around  the  lip,  and  the.  tender  light  of  a  full, 
black,  overpowering  eye. 

As  she  floats  along,  she  casts  upon  you,  if  an  inti- 


184  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


mate,  a  look  of  the  most  glad  and  sparkling  recogni- 
tion ;  if  a  stranger,  a  look  that  lingers  on  your  heart 
long  after  the  beautiful  being  herself  may  have  passed 
away.  It  is  precisely  such  a  look  as  one  would  wear 
who  is  pleased  that  there  is  just  such  a  being  as 
yourself  in  the  world,  and  is  hapj^y  in  passing  you 
this  once,  though  she  may  never  meet  you  again.  It 
may,  perhaps,  be  owing  to  my  unfamiliarity  with  the 
world  ;  but  I  did  not  suppose  it  possible  for  a  person 
to  find,  in  a  land  of  strangers,  that  which  could  so 
allure  him  to  the  spot,  and  strike  to  his  inmost  sensi- 
bilities, as  what  one  must  experience  who  puts  his 
foot  within  the  sweet  environs  of  Malaga. 

But  there  are  other  engaging  objects  at  sunset  in 
this  Alameda.  Groups  of  sweetly  clad  children  frolic 
hand  in  hand  up  and  down  its  floating  area  ;  while 
the  little  miss  of  ten,  under  a  less  reserve  than  her 
senior  sister,  smiles  up  to  you  with  a  countenance 
full  of  light  and  gladness.  You  feel  half  disposed  to 
recognize  this  infantine  pleasure  in  the  liberties  of  a 
kiss,  but  not  venturing  so  far,  you  pass  on,  only  to 
encounter  again  the  same  captivating  scene.  You 
meet  also,  at  every  turn,  a  cleanly  clad  individual, 
ready  to  help  you  to  a  glass  of  fresh  water,  a  rich  ice 
cream,  or  one  ready,  with  his  little  flambeau,  to  light 
your  cigar. 

Under  the  shade  of  the  orange  and  oleander  you 
pass  social  groups,  on  their  circling  chairs,  holding 
their  free  tertulia,  where  every  topic  takes  its  light 


rUNEEAL  PROCESSION. 


185 


and  transient  turn.  From  every  thing  that  yon  see, 
y^our  impression  is,  that  the  little  embarrassments 
imposed  by  adventitious  superiority  are  here  laid 
aside ;  that  artificial  restraints  are  forgotten ;  that 
heart  meets  heart,  and  that  many,  without  being  the 
less  wise,  are  rendered  the  more  happy  by  such  pas- 
times. 

We  had  taken  leave  of  these  gay  groups,  and 
turned  to  depart  for  om-  boats  which  were  waiting  at 
the  beach,  when  another  scene,  and  one  that  strangely 
contrasted  with  those  around,  arrested  our  steps.  It 
would  seem  as  if  it  had  come  only  to  remind  us  of 
the  fleeting  nature  of  the  objects  that  we  had  been 
admiring,  to  tell  us  that  all  this  brightness  and  beauty, 
which  onr  feelings  had  almost  exempted  from  tears 
and  decay,  must  pass  down  under  the  cloud  of  the 
grave !  It  came  nearer,  and  now  with  a  step  mourn- 
ful and  slow  entered  the  Alameda.  This  place,  but  a 
moment  since  so  full  of  life,  voices,  and  mirth,  was 
now  hushed,  while  every  ear  was  tm-ned  to  the  low 
anthem  of  the  dead. 

The  youth  and  drapery  of  those  who  numerously 
followed  the  bier,  told  that  it  was  to  a  sister's  worth 
that  they  were  paying  these  last  sad  rites.  It  seemed 
as  if  I  had  known  that  young  being, — as  if  I  had 
often  encountered  her  youthful  face,  heard  her  voice, 
and  seen  her  die. 

But  yesterday,  and  thou  were  bright 
As  rays  that  fringe  the  early  cloud ; 


186  SHIP   AND  SHORE. 

Now  lost  to  life,  to  love,  and  light, 

Wrapt  in  the  winding-sheet  and  shroud ; 

And  darkly  o'er  thee  broods  the  pall, 
While  faint  and  low  thy  dh-ge  is  sung; 

And  warm  and  fast  around  thee  fall 
Tears  of  the  beautiful  and  young. 

No  more,  sweet  one !  on  thee,  no  more 

Will  break  the  day-dawn  fresh  and  fail- ; 
No  more  the  purple  twilight  pour 

Its  softness  round  thy  raven  hair ; 
No  more  beneath  thy  magic  hand 

Will  wake  the  lyre's  responsive  lay ; 
Or  round  its  rings  the  wreath  expand, 

To  crown  a  sister's  natal  day. 

Yet  as  the  sweet  surviving  vine. 

Around  the  bough  that  buds  no  more 
Will  still  its  tender  leaves  entwine, 

And  bloom  as  freshly  as  before  ; 
So  fond  affection  still  will  shed 

The  light  on  thee  it  used  to  wear, 
And  plant  its  roses  round  thy  bed. 

To  breathe  in  fragrant  beauty  there. 


PASSAGE   FROM  MALAGA   TO   MAHON.    -         18Y 


CHAPTER    XI. 

No  breath  from  mountain,  cloud,  or  cavern  creeps 
Along  the  water's  hushed  expanse ;  the  wave 

Unbroken  in  iis  tranquil  aspect,  sleeps 
Serene  as  Beauty  in  her  sunless  grave  ; 

Nor  moves  a  tide,  unless  its  silent  flow 

Be  through  the  caves  and  coral  halls  below. 

PASSAGE  FROM  MALAGA  TO  MAHON TEDIOUS  CALMS — RELIEVING  INCI- 
DENTS— VISIT  OF  A  BIRD CAPTURE  OF  AN  OMINOUS  SHARK — INTRU- 
SIONS   OF    A    GHOST UNFAIR   TAKING    OFF    OF    A    BLACK    CAT PETTED 

HEDGE-HOG MORGAn's  SPECTRE  AT  NIAGARA MAHON HARBOR FORT 

ST.  PHILIP ADMIRAL  BYNG LAZARETTO NAVi'-YARD HABITS  OF  THE 

MAHONEES EFFECTS    OF    A    CERTAIN   VICE    ON    MAN GRAI^D    ORGAN 

SAILORS  ON  SHORE — JACK  AND  THE  OPERA — ENTERTAINMENTS. 

We  have  been  fifteen  days  on  our  passage  from 
Malaga  to  Mahon, — a  distance  frequently  run  in  less 
than  three.  Most  of  the  time  we  have  been  encoun- 
tering a  light  head  wind,  or  have  been  lying  in  a  mo- 
tionless calm.  The  sun  has  been  intensely  oppress- 
ive, and  we  have  had  nothing  to  temper  its  burn- 
ing ray  except  a  sight  of  the  snow-clad  mountains 
of  Granada.  I  have  sat  by  the  hour  together,  looking 
at  these  icy  pinnacles ;  and  as  my  fancy  ranged  among 
their  shapeless  halls  of  frost,  I  have  felt,  or  imagined 
that  I  felt,  the  palpitating  pulse  become  more  calm 
and  cool.    Philosophers  may  say  what  they  please, 


188  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 


but  a  man's  imagination  has  nearly  as  much  influence 
over  the  temperature  of  his  body,  as  it  has  over  the 
habitudes  of  the  mind.  Who  ever  in  his  dream  of 
the  avalanche  cast  another  blanket  from  the  covering 
of  his  couch  ? 

A  calm  at  sea,  on  board  a  man-of-war,  is  not  utterly 
unrelieved  by  incidents.  It  is  indeed  devoid  of  the 
peculiar  excitement  which  a  storm  brings  with  it. 
No  spar  is  broken — no  shroud  is  rent — no  sail  casts 
its  tattered  form  upon  the  wind  ;  but  some  novelty  of 
a  lighter  and  less  perilous  character  is  constantly  oc- 
curring. Some  wandering  bird  will  rest  its  weary 
wing  on  the  mast ;  or  some  hungry  shark  that  has 
been  hanging  around  the  ship  for  days,  will  at  last 
come  within  the  deadly  reach  of  the  harpoon ;  or 
some  evil  genius  that  has  haunted  the  ship  in  the 
shape  of  a  ghost,  or  the  less  imposing  form  of  a  black 
cat,  will  be  detected  in  the  mysterious  windings  of  its 
iniquitous  errand.  We  have  experienced  these  inci- 
dents, trifles  in  themselves,  but  which,  with  many 
others  of  a  similar  nature,  tend  incredibly  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  a  calm  at  sea. 

The  bird  lighted  on  one  of  our  spars  just  at  sunset, 
and  wearied  with  its  long  wanderings,  sunk  instantly 
to  sleep.  We  sent  up  a  sailor,  had  him  brought  down 
into  the  cabin,  where  he  was  hospitably  entertained 
through  the  night,  and  in  the  morning,  after  attach- 
ing a  small  silk  thread  to  him  was  permitted  to  de- 
part, with  many  warm  wishes  for  his  safety.     But  the 


VISIT   OF   A   BIRD,  189 


nfext  day,  at  sunset,  he  lighted  again  on  one  of  our 
top-gallant  yards ;  we  received  him  with  a  cordial 
welcome,  and  parting  with  him  the  succeeding  morn- 
ing, we  attached  to  him  a  slight  label,  upon  which 
was  delicately  printed  the  name  of  our  ship,  with  her 
latitude  and  lono-itude. 

Thus  intrusted  and  commissioned,  he  winged  his 
way  off,  with  the  directness  and  speed  of  an  aerial 
envoy ;  and  when  we  next  heard  of  him,  he  had 
lighted  at  an  immense  distance  on  one  of  our  armed, 
ships ;  conveying  on  the  label  information  equally 
strange  and  unexpected.  I  would  travel  leagues  to 
see  that  bird  again  ;  but  it  has  gone,  like  most  of  the 
beautiful  things  of  this  earth,  which  only  seem  to 
cross  our  path,  and  then  vanish  away  forever ! 

They  flutter  round  in  airy  mirth, 

And  pour  their  little  stave, 
As  full  of  glee,  as  if  the  earth 

Contained  no  grave. 

And  thus  when  I  shall  sink  to  rest. 

The  crowd  will  still  move  on, 
And  be  as  gay  above  my  breast, 

As  naught  had  gone ! 

But  He  who  hears  the  raven's  cry, 

And  marks  the  sparrow's  fall. 
Will  ne'er  forget  me,  though  I  die 

Unmourned  by  all. 

The  shark  shared  none  of  these  feelings  of  hospi- 
tality and  fiiendship.     His  very  company  is  regard- 


190  SHIP   ANT>  SHORE. 


ed  as  an  extremely  ill  omen  ;  especially  when  there 
is  a  person  sick  on  board.  Sailors  believe  that  this 
fearful  fish  has  what  they  term  the  instinct  of  death, 
and  that  his  appearance  is  good  evidence  that  the 
body  of  some  one  is  about  to  be  committed  to  the 
deep.  They  also  look  upon  him  as  in  some  meas- 
ure instrumental  in  bringing  about  the  melancholy 
event ;  and  are  therefore  as  anxious  to  secure  his  de- 
struction, as  a  threatened  city  to  arrest  the  invading 
progress  of  the  cholera  or  plague. 

A  favorite  of  the  crew  was  now  apparently  lying 
at  the  point  of  death ;  and  this  shark  had  been  hang- 
ing around  our  ship  for  several  days.  The  harpoon 
had  many  times  been  poised  to  strike  him  ;  but  the 
wily  fellow  had  ever  managed  to  escape  the  plung- 
ing steel.  At  length  an  old  seam.an,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  strike  the  whale  on  the  coast  of  Green- 
land, and  who  still  betrayed  the  characteristics  of  his 
rude  profession,  in  the  peculiar  fierce  fixedness  of  his 
eye  and  the  muscular  energy  of  his  arms,  taking  the 
harpoon,  stationed  himself  on  the  ship's  bows,  and 
declared  he  would  never  quit  his  post  till  he  had 
"backed  the  topsails  of  that  lurking  devil  in  the 
water." 

He  had  not  been  long  on  his  watch  before  the 
wished-for  opportunity  arrived ;  and  never  went  an 
arrow  to  its  mark  with  more  directness  and  celerity, 
than  the  harpoon  to  its  victim.  It  struck  him  di- 
rectly between  the  fore-fins,  and  with  such  desperate 


VISIT   OF   A   GHOST.  191 


force,  that  extrication  and  escape  were  impossible. 
A  sliout  of  satisfaction  and  triumpli  announced  the 
victory.  The  sick  man  soon  became  convalescent ; 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  persuade  many  of  the 
crew  that  his  recovery  is  not  attributable  to  the  de; 
struction  of  this  ominous  shark ! 

The  ghost  appeared  in  a  still  more  mysterious 
character.  One  of  the  young  gentlemen  who  slept 
in  the  cock-pit,  was  observed  rapidly  to  waste  away 
in  his  strength ;  while  his  countenance  suddenly  as- 
sumed an  aspect  of  melancholy  wildness.  He  was 
naturally  of  a  taciturn  temperament,  little  disposed 
to  obtrude  his  private  fears  and  apprehensions  upon 
the  attention  of  others.  Perhaps  a  silence  on  the 
present  occasion,  was  the  more  strongly  suggested  by 
the  philosophical  habits  which'  he  had  early  and  de- 
votedly cultivated.  He  was  often  questioned  as  to 
the  cause  of  the  wasting  illness,  which  had  now  be- 
come alarmingly  apparent  in  the  sunken,  pallid  ex- 
pression of  his  features,  and  the  fitful  nervousness  of 
his  frame.  But  no  reply  could  be  obtained,  except 
what  might  be  conveyed  in  a  mournful  look  or  an  in- 
voluntary sigh. 

At  last,  however,  he  acknowledged  that  something 
appeared  nightly  before  him,  the  most  unearthly  in 
its  shape ;  and  which,  in  spite  of  his  utter  disbelief 
in  supernatural  appearances,  struck  a  chilling  terror 
to  his  heart;  and  that  on  such  occasions  the  ham- 
mock in  which  he  reposed  was  violently  agitated, 


192  snip   AND   SHORE. 


and  swuus:  a2;ainst  the  bulk-head  with  a  force  which 
no  motion  of  the  sea  could  create. 

The  rush  of  the  hammock  against  the  bulk-head 
had  for  several  nights  awakened  the  alarm  of  his 
companions  in  the  cock-pit.  This  fact,  together  with 
the  known  character  of  the  individual  for  veracity 
and  sound  sense,  induced  us  to  set  a  watch  to  detect, 
if  possible,  the  mysterious  agent  of  these  alarms. 
This  watch,  consisting  of  three  faithful  and  intelli- 
gent individuals,  in  the  first  place,  searched  the 
apartment  in  which  the  invalid  slept,  carefully  clos- 
ing and  securing  every  door  which  led  into  it ;  and 
then  waited,  with  dead-lanterns  in  their  hands,  for 
the  nocturnal  visitant.  As  the  clock  struck  the  hour 
of  twelve,  a  low,  vacant  moan  w^as  heard ;  and  the 
patient,  who  had  till  now  rem.ained  composed  on 
his  pillow,  starting  up,  exclaimed, — "  Tliere  it  is  !" 
"  there  it  comes  !"  — "  Merciful  heaven,  protect 
me !" 

His  hammock,  at  the  same  instant,  rushed  against 
the  bulk-head  with  a  violence  which  no  mortal  arm 
could  impart.  Large  drops  of  cold  perspiration 
stood  on  the  forehead  of  the  patient ;  his  eyes  wxre 
starting  from  their  sockets,  and  every  nerve  in  his 
frame  was  shaking  with  a  strange,  unnatural  fear. 
Search  was  immediately  made,  but  no  vestige  of  any 
living  thing  could  be  discovered,  nor  any  clue  to  the 
convulsive  movements  of  the  hammock,  or  hollow 
moan  of  the  voice,  or  ghastly  form  of  the  apparition. 


VISIT   OF   A   GHOST.  193 


The  watch  was  exchanged  for  many  nights  in  snc- 
cession,  and  the  same  mysterious  phenomena  wit- 
nessed by  each,  till  even  the  most  skeptical  regarded 
incredulity  no  longer  an  evidence  of  superior  saga- 
city or  philosophical  wisdom. 

ITor  were  these  strange  appearances  confined  to 
the  cock-pit ;  but  the  men  stationed  in  the  tops  ob- 
served a  singular  form,  in  a  dress  of  spotless  white, 
moving  among  the  rigging — now  pausing  upon  one 
of  the  yards,  now  ascending  to  mast-head,  and  then 
again  balancing  itself  upon  some  of  the  lighter  tra- 
cery of  the  ship.  Tlie  unsubstantial  movements  of 
this  spectre  among  the  shrouds  and  loftier  apjDend- 
ages  of  the  ship,  awakened  in  the  susceptible  mind 
of  the  sailor  the  most  alarming  apprehensions. 

You  would  see  him,  as  he  was  ordered  to  take  his 
watch  aloft,  squaring  off  towards  the  ratlines  with 
the  looks  and  attitudes  of  one  doubtful  of  results, 
but  at  least  resolved  to  die  manfully.  "  Let  him 
come,"  Jack  would  murmm-,  "like  something  that 
has  common  honesty  about  him,  and  smite  my  tim- 
bers, if  I  don't  knock  daylight  out  of  him  ;  but  this 
jumping  about  on  the  ropes,  half  the  time  in  the  air, 
and  half  the  time  on  nothing,  is  foul  play,  and  bodes 
no  good."  The  imaginations  of  the  crew  soon  be- 
came so  excited,  that  nothing  was  thought  or  dreamt 
of  among  them  but  ghosts,  spectres,  hobgoblins,  and 
blood !  Tliese  alarms  not  only  gave  rise  to  many 
frightful  stories,  but  they  called  up,  from  the  smoth- 

9 


194  snip   AND   SHORE. 


ered  graves  of  memory,  tales  terrific  enough,  to  startle 
the  dead  in  their  shrouds  ! 

The  incantation,  from  which  these  ghostly  terrors 
emanated,  has  now  been  sufficiently  traced  to  remove 
all  apprehensions  of  a  supernatural  agency.  It  was 
the  jugglery  of  a  young  man,  the  apparent  artlessness 
of  whose  disposition  had  subjected  him  to  many  a 
ludicrous  hoax  from  the  junior  officers  and  some  of 
the  crew.  But  he  has  enjoyed  a  most  ample  retalia- 
tion : 

The  luckless  subject  of  the  merry  trick 
Became  himself  the  master  of  the  spell, 
And  rolled  the  laughter  back. 

Tlie  fate  of  the  black  cat  was  one  which  the  ad- 
mirers of  the  tabby  tribe  will  sternly  disapprove. 
This  restless  domestic  is  looked  upon  by  the  sailor, 
especially  when  afflicted  with  a  black  visage,  with  no 
kindly  or  tolerant  feelings.  There  is  no  bad  luck 
about  the  ship  which  is  not  ascribed  to  some  evil  in- 
fluence which  she  is  supposed  to  exercise.  Hence, 
in  a  storm  or  dead  calm,  poor  tab  has  a  tremendous 
responsibility.  Our  unfortunate  puss  had  been  taken 
on  board  at  Malaga,  and  since  her  embarkation  we 
had  not  been  visited  by  one  favorable  breeze.  This 
calamity  was  attributed  to  her  universally  among  the 
crew. 

There  needed  no  language  to  tell  what  their  senti- 
ments were,  for  as  puss  came  upon  deck,  so  far  from 
being  petted,  she  encountered  everywhere  looks  of 


THE  BLACK  CAT.  195 


the  most  threatening  aversion,  "l^ever,"  said  an  old 
tar  to  me,  "  did  any  good  come  to  a  ship  that  had  a 
black  cat  in  its  concern.  I  have  sailed,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  on  every  sea  and  in  every  kind  of  craft,  and  I 
never  yet  knew  a  ship  make  a  good  voyage  that  went 
to  sea  on  Friday,  or  had  on  board  one  of  these  black 
imps.  These  are  facts,  sir ;  land-lubbers  may  laugh 
at  them,  but  they  are  facts,  and  true  as  my  name  is 
John  Wilkins." 

It  was  of  no  use  to  question  the  convictions  of  the 
old  seaman's  experience ;  he  was  as  confident  and 
deeply  earnest,  as  a  man  testifying  to  the  indisputable 
evidence  of  his  senses.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
he,  with  some  others,  formed  that  shocking  purpose 
so  fatal  to  poor  tab.  For  on  that  very  night,  in  the 
middle  watch,  a  quick  plunge  was  heard  in  the  calm 
sea,  and  the  next  morning  puss  was  missing !  They 
had  attached  to  her  a  heavy  shot,  and  she  sunk  at 
once  to  the  centre  of  the  great  floating  realm,  where 
she  remains  unapproached  by  the  animosity  of  man, 
or  the  footsteps  of  the  reckless  rat ! 

Sterne  would  have  written  her  epitaph  in  tears ; 
but  I  am  not  penning  a  sentimental  journal,  nor  am 
I  now  in  the  lachrymal  vein  ;  yet  I  would  not  have 
purchased  by  such  a  deed  even  the  fine  breeze  which 
visited  us  the  next  day,  and  which  was  regarded  by 
the  tabby-cides  as  a  sanction  of  their  sanguinary  con- 
duct. We  should  never  forget  that  many  a  man  has 
atoned  by  his  death  for  a  life  of  crime,  which  com- 


196  snip  AND  8H0EE. 


menced  in  the  destrnction  of  a  harmless  insect.  We 
should  also  bear  in  mind  the  irremediable  deprivation 
of  life  and  happiness  which  even  in  these  trifling  in- 
stances we  inflict ;  for 

"  The  poor  beetle,  that  we  tread  upon, 
In  corporal  sufferance  finds  a  pang  as  great 
As  -when  a  giant  dies." 

Though  the  antipathy  of  the  sailor  to  the  shark  and 
black  cat  is  so  unqualified,  yet  his  friendship  and 
affection  are  extended  to  objects  nearly  as  numberless 
and  ill-favored  as  those  to  which  the  superstitious 
Egyptian  paid  the  homage  of  his  promiscuous  wor- 
ship. The  favorite  pet  on  board,  at  the  present  time, 
is  a  hedge-hog ;  who  moves  about  with  an  air  of 
freedom  and  independence  which  is  truly  enviable. 
Notwithstanding  his  bristling  quills  and  inimical  at- 
titudes, he  is  cherished  by  the  crew  with  as  much 
solicitude  as  if  he  were  a  cherub,  destined  one  day  to 
herald  their  spirits  to  a  brighter  and  better  world. 

They  have  already  initiated  him  into  some  of  our 
earthly  sciences ;  and  though  he  may  not  be  able 
now  to  solve  a  deep  mathematical  problem  or  sing 
an  exquisite  song,  yet  he  appears  to  be  daily  taking 
observations  of  the  sim,  and  setting  his  organs  for  a 
melodious  burst.  He  will  not  probably  at  first  do 
justice  to  some  of  the  more  touching  strains  of  a 
Eossini,  yet  he  will  doubtless  far  surpass  many  of  our 
ladies,  who  afiect  a  contempt  for  all  music  except 
these  difiicult  compositions. . 


BELIEF  m  GHOSTS.  19*? 

I  return  to  ghosts :  not  that  I  would  intimate  the 
presence  of  any  on  board  our  ship  at  this  tune,  or 
maintain,  by  an  introduction  of  stern  evidence,  the 
credibility  of  their  existence.  I  consider  this  question 
as  settled  conclusively  among  all  enlightened  un- 
prejudiced minds.  A  few,  indeed,  may  still  with- 
hold their  assent,  but  their  skepticism  evinces  only 
their  want  of  philosophy,  their  weakness  and  vanity. 
They  refuse  their  belief,  as  they  inform  us,  because 
no  one  of  these  mysterious  beings  has  ever  appeared 
in  the  daytime.  N^ow,  what  a  fool  a  ghost  must  be 
to  make  his  appearance  in  broad  daylight,  subjecting 
himself  not  only  to  the  imj)udent  cui'iosity  of  man- 
Mnd,  but  to  the  riddling  rays  of  the  sun,  when  even 
the  moonbeams  cast  through  him  their  sickly 
light. 

But  it  is  not  a  fact,  as  stated,  that  no  one  of  these 
spectres  has  appeared  in  the  daytime.  When  Mor- 
gan was  put  to  death  on  the  strand  of  Niagara  for 
his  treachery,  and  his  body  sunk  in  that  stream,  there 
appeared  hovering  around  the  place  an  uncorporeal 
being,  so  like  him  in  every  look,  that  no  one  ques- 
tioned the  identity  or  doubted  the  tragic  deed.  The 
discovery  filled  everj^body  with  consternation,  and 
the  whole  land  shook  like  the  bones  of  a  skeleton 
under  a  galvanic  battery.  Thousands  not  only  ab- 
jured masonry,  but  renounced  their  political  faith.  I 
made  myself  a  palpitating  pilgrimage  to  Niagara. 
Ay — and  I  never  shall  forget  that  vision ! 


198  SHIP   AND   S1I0EE. 


There  walks  o'er  steep  Niagara's  wave 
A  ghost,  whose  form  hath  found  a  grave, 

Deep  in  those  wlielming  tides ; 
Its  feathered  footsteps  scarcely  seem 
To  bend  the  surface  of  the  stream, 

O'er  which  this  phantom  glides. 

Around  it  there  is  cast  a  shroud, 
That  seems  more  like  a  folding  cloud, 

Than  aught  that  mortals  wear ; 
Its  downcast  eye,  its  faded  cheek, 
Its  pale  and  trembling  lips  bespeak 

A  spirit  of  despair. 

It  moans  a  hoarse  and  hollow  wail, 
That  mingles  with  the  gusty  gale. 

And  with  the  rumbling  flood ; 
It  points  toward  the  crimsoned  shore, 
And  shrieks,  as  if  it  felt  once  more 

The  knife  that  drank  its  blood. 

Its  wail  is  echoed  wild  and  wide, 

From  rock,  and  steep,  and  bounding  tide, 

Around  that  haunted  coast ; 
And  fearful  mothers,  trembling,  tell 
Their  little  ones  how  Morgan  fell. 

And  of  this  wandering  ghost. 

Along  that  fatal  shore  is  heard 
No  more  the  song  of  merry  bird, 

Or  sound  of  hunter's  horn ; 
The  faithful  watch-dog  seems  afraid 
Of  every  sound  that  stirs  the  shade. 

And  bays  till  peep  of  morn. 


FOET  ST.   PHILIP.  199 


No  more  can  sun,  nor  lunar  beam, 
Erect  a  rainbow  o'er  that  stream, 

From  which  the  tish  have  fled  ; 
But  there  a  little  cloud  appears. 
And  sheds  its  unregarded  tears. 

Like  one  that  weeps  the  dead. 

We  are  now  riding  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Ma- 
hon.  This  harbor  cuts  its  narrow  way  between  bold 
and  broken  shores  for  several  miles  into  the  island  ; 
affording  through  its  whole  length  a  most  secure  an- 
chorage. The  waters  in  this  deep  channel  lie  as  still 
as  the  fabled  river  of  Death,  but  they  are  much  less 
gloomy  than  the  tideless  flow  of  that  sullen  flood. 
They  are  relieved  by  a  picturesque  shore — by  the 
frequent  ship  reposing  proudly  on  her  element,  and 
the  traversing  speed  of  innumerable  boats,  leaving 
behind  their  hastening  keels  a  long  train  of  phos- 
phoric light.  ISTothing  can  surpass  the  sentiment  of 
quietude  and  security  which  one  feels  riding  here  at 
anchor,  while  the  chafing  ocean  is  fretting  against 
the  rocky  barrier  without.  It  is  like  a  snug  seat  by 
the  side  of  a  cheerful  fire  in  a  cold  winter's  night, 
while  the  storm  and  sleet  are  driving  against  your 
secure  casement. 

On  entering  this  harbor  you  pass  upon  the  left  the 
ruins  of  Fort  St.  Philip ;  a  fortification  that,  in  the 
day  of  its  pride  and  strength,  might  have  looked 
with  scornful  defiance  upon  the  menaces  of  any  in- 
vading foe.    Tlie  endming  parapet,  the  winding  gal- 


200  SHIP   AND  SHOKE. 


leries  cut  in  tlie  solid  rock,  with  the  heavy  bastion 
above,  may  still  be  traced,  though  they  are  but  the 
dim  and  broken  outline  of  ruined  strength.  This 
work  of  demolition  is  not  the  effect  of  time,  but  the 
condition  of  a  treaty  founded  in  weakness  and  folly. 
The  once  impregnable  character  of  this  fort  owed  its 
existence  to  British  skill  and  hardihood  ;  and  in  the 
possession  of  that  sagacious  power,  it  would  have 
preserved  this  character,  but  every  thing  was  lost  by 
a  lamentable  want  of  judgment  or  courage  in  Admi- 
ral Byng. 

The  French,  in  their  war  of  conquest,  had  fixed  a 
determined  eye  on  this  spot ;  they  had  hovered  around 
it  with  their  fleet,  and  cut  oft'  all  foreign  supply  of 
provisions.  The  islanders,  with  a  most  unaccountable 
insanity,  withheld  the  few  supplies  which  it  was  in 
their  power  to  afford,  and  consequently  the  garrison 
was  reduced  to  a  state  of  starvation ;  still  the  be- 
sieged held  out  with  incredible  self-denial  and  per- 
severance. At  last  the  fleet  of  Admiral  Byng  hove 
in  sight,  bringing  with  it  the  relief  for  which  so  many 
were  famishing  and  fainting  in  death.  But  how  ap- 
palling must  have  been  their  feelings,  their  despair, 
when  they  saw  this  fleet,  after  manoeuvering  in  sight 
of  an  enemy  to  which  they  were  superior  in  force, 
bear  oif  and  leave  them  to  their  melancholy  fate ! 
It  is  no  wonder,  that  in  their  mortified  pride  and  in- 
dignation at  this  desertion,  and  in  the  extremities  of 
their  famishing  condition,  they  snrrendered. 


THE  FOET  AXD   LAZAEETTO.  201 

They  were  compelled  to  yield  to  the  enemy  or  the 
grave.  In  the  excitements  of  a  desperate  conflict 
men  may  prefer  the  latter,  but  without  this  absorbing 
passion,  there  are  but  few  who  may  not  be  slowly  tor- 
tured by  famine  into  a  surrender  of  temporary  power. 
For  this  act  of  seeming  treachery  and  its  disastrous 
consequences,  the  Admiral  atoned  by  an  ignominious 
death.  I  can  never  think  of  his  last  end,  however, 
without  some  sentiments  of  compassion.  Perhaps  his 
conduct  flowed  less  from  cowardice  than  irresolution, 
and  that  strange  bewilderment,  into  which  the  minds 
of  some  men  are  cast,  by  the  impetuous  approach  of 
a  trying  and  perilous  moment.  If  penalties  can 
atone  for  indiscretion  or  crime,  the  memory  of  this 
unfortunate  man  should  be  allowed  to  rest  without 
reproach. 

Upon  the  opposite  bank  are  the  remains  of  Fort 
Marlborough ;  but  there  is  now  no  terror  or  majesty 
about  it  except  what  lingers  in  its  name.  How  are 
the  most  formidable  works  of  man  cast  aside,  like 
weeds  which  the  wave  sweeps  from  the  rock !  If 
man,  in  the  phrensy  of  his  passions,  does  not  destroy 
his  own  works.  Time  soon  comes  with  his  levelling 
wand,  and  leaves  only  enough  to  puzzle  the  antiquary. 

Not  far  from  the  relics  of  this  fort  stands  the  Laza- 
retto, a  noble  monument  of  wisdom  and  humanity. 
In  the  extent  and  convenience  of  its  apartments,  it  is 
surpassed  in  Europe  only  by  that  of  Marseilles.  It  is 
about  fifteen  hundred  yards  in  circumference,  and  so 

9* 


202  SHIP  AND   SHOKE. 


arranged  in  its  interior  construction,  that  tlie  most 
malignant  or  contagious  diseases  cannot  spread  from 
one  ward  to  another.  Its  accommodations  are  suffi- 
ciently ample  to  meet  any  emergency  that  may  arise 
among  the  squadrons  which  frequent  this  sea.  How 
much  wiser  is  it  in  a  nation  to  expend  its  treasures 
in  the  construction  of  establishments  of  this  kind,  than 
in  the  erection  of  sumptuous  monasteries  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  indolence  and  infamy ! 

Higher  up  the  harbor,  and  near  the  right  bank, 
emerges  from  the  wave  the  quarantine  island. 
Around  this  may  be  seen,  moored  in  security,  the 
ships  and  craft  of  various  nations  undergoing  their 
purifying  penalties.  Directly  opposite  stands  the  vil- 
lage of  Georgetown,  whose  kindly  inhabitants,  it  is 
said,  extend  their  liospitality  even  beyond  that  line 
where  virtue  should  pause,  and  beauty  veil  the  win- 
ning aspect  of  her  charms.  Still  ascending,  we  pass, 
near  the  right  shore.  Hospital  Island,  with  its  infirm- 
ary; where  the  diseased  may  be  fitted  to  join  the 
living,  or  the  innumerable  dead. 

Hi  "-her  up  still,  on  the  same  shore,  and  near  the 
head  of  deep  water,  we  find  the  navy-yard,  with  its 
small  octagonal  islet,  warehouses,  and  the  countless 
facilities  which  the  mutable  habits  of  a  ship's  exterior 
render  so  desirable.  Here  you  may  see  the  majestic 
ship  reduced  in  a  few  hours,  as  by  the  demolishing 
stroke  of  a  wizard's  wand,  to  a  mere  hulk ;  and  then, 
as  if  by  the  same  magical  influence,  suddenly  as- 


TOWN   OF  MAHON.  203 


suming  again  all  its  wonted  stateliness  and  beauty. 
The  dexterity  and  force  of  nautical  science  is  no- 
where more  strikingly  displayed  than  in  the  extent 
and  rapidity  of  these  metamorphic  exhibitions.  I 
would  as  soon  attempt  to  construct  a  world  as  to  re- 
turn a  tenth  portion  of  the  disengaged  upper  works 
of  a  ship  to  their  puzzling  places. 

Opposite  the  navy-yard  stands  the  town  of  Mahon, 
with  its  narrow  quay,  scarcely  affording  a  foundation 
for  the  range  of  storehouses  which  wall  the  low 
shore  ;  while  far  above,  in  giddy  elevation,  the  more 
advanced  dwellings  of  the  place  appear  to  nod  from 
the  toppling  crags.  Ascending  to  their  airy  position 
by  paths  cut  in  the  rock,  or  secured  among  the  spiral 
clefts,  you  find  yourself  in  a  quiet  town,  \vith  clean 
streets,  unambitious  but  neat  dwellings,  and  a  popu- 
lation characterized  for  their  industry,  honesty,  fru- 
gality, and  amiable  deportment.  I  have  seldom  been 
in  a  community  where  there  is  so  much  to  pity,  and 
so  much  to  admire. 

Their  poverty  is  attended  by  a  simplicity  and  self- 
relying  straggle  at  alleviation,  which  move  your 
heart.  It  is  not  poverty  in  a  cottage,  sm-rounded 
and  alleviated  by  rural  delights.  There  are  here  no 
rushing  streams,  no  waving  forests,  no  flocks  that 
skip  the  hills,  or  luxuriate  in  the  vales ;  no  lay  of 
nightingales  to  charm  in  the  purple  evening,  or  song 
of  early  birds  to  usher  up  the  rosy  morn.  It  is  pov- 
erty unrelieved  by  any  of  these  romantic  incidents. 


204  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


It  is  poverty  in  a  city ;  in  a  confined  town,  and 
among  a  people  whose  commerce  has  been  crushed  ; 
whose  resources  have  been  cut  off  by  a  despotism  that 
disgraces  the  age  in  which  it  is  permitted  to  exist. 
Mahon,  with  its  due  privileges  of  trade,  might  be  a 
place  of  great  enterprise  and  wealtli ;  but  under  its 
present  onerous  and  prohibitory  restrictions,  it  is 
doomed  to  languish  on  in  a  life  of  hopeless  poverty. 

Though  the  encomagements  to  industry  here  are 
miserably  slender — such  as  in  our  country  wou.ld  be 
regarded  as  a  mere  mockery — yet  I  have  seldom 
been  in  a  community  of  more  active  habits.  I  have 
seen  the  mother  rising  with  the  earliest  dawn,  as- 
siduously plying  her  task  till  a  late  hour  of  rest,  and 
gaining  but  a  few  farthings,  scarcely  suflicient  to  pur- 
chase a  loaf  of  coarse  bread  for  her  helpless  offspring. 
There  was  about  her,  in  her  toil  and  deprivations, 
a  cheerfidness  and  alacrity,  which  affected  me  far 
more  than  all  the  dismal  complaints  and  solicitations 
of  indolent  mendicity.  It  may  be  a  weakness,  but  I 
could  cheerfully  divide  my  last  penny  with  such  an 
individual,  I  never  before  so  deeply  regretted  the 
narrowness  of  my  means.  I  could  hardly  wish  for 
a  greater  earthly  felicity  than  being  placed  in  a  pop- 
ulation of  this  description,  with  the  power  of  relieving 
their  wants,  and  making  them  happy. 

If,  in  the  more  dependent  sex,  aberrations  from 
rectitude  here  are  too  frequently  to  be  met  with,  it  is 
ascribable,  in  my  apprehension,  less  to  the  want  of 


EFFECTS   OF   A   VICE.  205 

virtue  than  the  jearning  instigations  of  want.  Pov- 
erty in  this  frail  world  is  a  prolific  source,  not  only 
of  wi'etchedness,  but  of  moral  turpitude ;  and  though 
it  cannot  sanction  guilt,  yet  perhaps  it  ought  to  soften 
down  the  severity  of  our  denunciations.  We  know 
not  what  we  are  made  of  till  tried  in  the  furnace  of 
adversity ;  we  should  all  probably  come  forth  from 
such  an  ordeal,  with  a  vast  diminution  of  pride  and 
self-complacency.  TVTien  we  leave  our  plentiful 
boards  for  the  crumbs  of  a  precarious  subsistence, 
we  may  then  speak  of  temptations  and  the  force  of 
virtue. 

Competence  is  one  of  the  strongest  securities  against 
crime.  Treason  to  the  wholesome  institutions  of  so- 
ciety, and  the  moral  sense  of  mankind,  is  seldom  a 
wanton  act.  A  wise  legislator  aims  to  make  men 
happy,  and  thus  to  make  them  better.  "Would  to 
God  that  those  intrusted  with  the  dispensation  of 
law,  might  realize  the  extent  of  joy  or  sorrow,  good 
or  evil,  that  must  flow  from  an  exercise  of  their 
prerogatives.  Acting  under  an  adequate  sense  of 
theii"  responsibilities  in  this  respect,  they  would  lay 
the  foundations  of  a  fame  which  time  could  not  im- 
pair, or  marble  monuments  prolong.  Their  memorial 
would  be  the  transmitted  happiness  of  millions. 

Tliough  the  consequences  of  a  ruined  virtue  in  the 
other  sex  may  be  more  immediately  disastrous  than 
in  our  ow^n,  yet  in  the  latter  case  they  are  of  a  most 
destructive  character.     They  benumb  and  destroy  all 


206  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


the  finer  sensibilities  of  tlie  soul.  They  convert  tlie 
heart  into  a  grave,  in  which  its  delicate  emotions  lie 
blighted  and  dead.  The  soft  beinor  that  could  once 
move  and  melt  it  by  the  moral  charm  which  rested  on 
her  beauty,  cannot  now  quicken  its  perished  sympathy'-. 

Purity  is  not  only  mdispensable  to  the  more  refined 
susceptibilities  of  our  nature,  but  also  to  that  quietude 
of  conscience  which  is  the  sunshine  of  the  soul.  I 
envy  not  that  man  his  di*eams,  who  seeks  his  pillowed 
repose  while  he  has  left  another  to  blush  and  to  weep. 
He  may  indeed  be  callous  to  his  crime — and  for  a 
time  slumber  on  in  his  remorseless  guilt,  but  his  hour 
of  sorrow  and  shame  will  inevitably  come ;  nor  will 
its  anguish  and  bitterness  be  mitigated  by  its  delay. 
If  there  be  pangs  which  strike  deeper  into  the  soul, 
they  must  be  his  portion  who  has  betrayed  the  con- 
fiding and  ruined  the  innocent — who  promised  only 
to  deceive,  and  cherished  only  to  destroy. 

JSTor  is  purchased,  advised,  and  consenting  crimi- 
nality without  its  fearful  penalties.  A  man  who 
yields  himself  to  vice,  even  in  this  form,  nourishes  a 
plant  whose  fruit  will  be  wormwood  and  gall : 

And  partake  of  this  fruit,  though  he  loathe  it,  he  must, 
Till  the  world  has  his  sharae,  and  the  grave  has  his  dust. 

But  I  was  speaking  of  Mahon.  There  is  another 
feature  in  the  population  of  this  place,  which  betrays 
their  kindly  disj)ositions.  Sailors  here  are  allowed 
to  go  upon  shore  on  leave, — and  on  such  occasions, 


THE  sailoe's  amusements.  207 

they  are  apt  to  float  wiclelj  from  salutary  restraint. 
They  make  meiTy,  pass  round  their  social  circles  the 
wild  glass ;  promenade  the  streets,  break  out  in  the 
jovial  song,  or  address  the  passers  by  with  as  much 
familiarity  as  if  they  were  all  shipmates  on  board  the 
same  craft,  and  bound  to  the  same  delightful  haven. 
Instead  of  resenting  this  freedom,  or  construing  it 
into  insolence,  I  have  seen  the  most  respectable 
citizen  take  the  proffered  hand  of  Jack,  wish  him  a 
prosperous  voyage,  and  a  happy  home  wherever  it 
might  be. 

How  different  this  from  the  treatment  which  the 
unceremonious  Tar  would  meet  with  in  one  of  our 
cities  ! — He  would  probably  be  knocked  down,  or,  at 
least,  thrust  aside  with  a  rebuking  severity.  Not  so 
here  :  if  too  meny,  it  is  excused ;  if  impertinent,  the 
best  construction  is  placed  upon  it ;  if  unfortunately 
out  of  his  reckoning,  he  is  taken  within-doors  till  his 
senses  and  his  gratitude  return.  I  do  admire,  beyond 
the  power  of  language  to  convey,  this  kind,  forbear- 
ing, and  hospitable  disposition,  I  would  not  exchange 
the  feelings  and  reflections  of  such  an  individual,  for 
all  the  importance  which  wealth  and  power  can  be- 
stow. The  consciousness  of  having  restored  the  wan- 
dering, and  relieved  the  distressed,  will  commend  the 
dying  man  to  the  grateful  remembrance  of  his  fellow- 
beings,  and  even  the  mercy  of  his  final  Judge. 

The  amusements  usually  indulged  in  hei'e,  are  the 
opera,  the  masquerade,  music  and  dancing.     Among 


208  snip  AND  snoEE. 


these,  the  officers  of  our  navy  are  prone  to  while  off 
some  of  their  long  winter  evenings.  They  are  seldom 
carried  to  excess  ;  they  are  occasional  escapes  from 
the  tedium  vitae  incident  to  winter-quarters,  and  are 
secured,  in  a  measure,  from  abuse,  by  the  mediocrity 
of  their  splendor  and  attraction.  Entei^tainments  of 
this  character,  to  possess  an  enduring  interest,  even 
for  the  gayest  heart,  must  be  sustained  by  an  expense 
incomj)atible  with  the  restricted  resom-ces  of  Malion. 
How  an  intelligent  community  can  be  fervently 
devoted  to  objects  of  this  natm-e,  and  find  in  them 
their  principal  excitements,  is  to  me  inconceivable. 
I  would  much  sooner  sit  down  in  a  chimney  corner 
with  some  scarred  veteran  of  the  field,  who  has  sur- 
vived the  continental  wars,  and  listen  to  his  tale  of 
conflict,  rout,  or  victory ;  or  with  some  old  sailor,  who 
has  unfurled  his  canvas  in  each  sea  and  clime,  and 
whose  thoughts  run  on  the  breeze,  the  gale,  or  wreck ; 
or  with  some  prying  antiquary,  who  has  sifted  the 
dust  of  a  perished  city  to  find  an  unintelligible  coin ; 
or  most  especially  with  some  village  mate  unseared 
by  the  world, — 

Whose  thoughts  run  warmly  back  to  early  childhood ; — 

The  airy  swing,  the  nested  bower,  the  wild-wood, — 

The  stream,  the  darting  trout,  the  little  boat, 

With  mimic  guns  and  mariners  afloat ; 

The  bounding  ball,  the  balance  on  the  rail, 

The  dog  that  watched  the  sport,  and  wagged  his  tail ; — 

A  sister's  bird  that  came  at  break  of  day, 

Carolled  its  merry  song,  and  flew  away. 


THE  sailok's  taste.  209 


The  entertainment  of  the  opera  is  too  refined  for 
the  rude  taste  of  the  sailor.  A  company  of  fifty  or 
sixty  were  permitted,  not  long-  since,  to  attend  one  of 
these  musical  performances.  They  cheerfully  paid 
the  highest  price  for  their  tickets,  and  took  their  seats, 
expecting  a  rich  treat.  But  it  was  soon  evident  that 
they  had  mistaken  their  port.  Yon  might  see  them 
glancing  about  for  a  moment  when  they  would  be 
less  observed,  and  then  skipping  out  as  one  escapes 
from  the  presence  of  a  person  whom  he  would  not 
oflend,  and  yet  in  whom  he  takes  no  interest. 

In  less  than  an  hour  they  all  disappeared.  In  the 
porch  and  court  some  of  them  ventm-ed  their  criti- 
cisms on  the  performance.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  such 
singing  as  that?"  said  Jack,  "such  backing  and 
filling — such  veering  and  hauling — such  pufiing  and 
screaming — there  is  as  much  music  in  a  boatswain's 
whistle !  And  then  the  language — such  a  jingling 
jargon — such  a  hanging  on,  and  spinning  out  in  each 
word — it  had  no  more  meaning  in  it  than  the  sound 
of  the  water  behind  a  shij)'s  keel."  So  they  agreed 
to  put  up  the  helm  ;  and  striking  up  one  of  their  old 
nautical  songs,  steered  by  many  ambiguous  tacks  for 
the  ship. 

But  the  theatre,  in  the  tragic  or  comic,  seldom  fails 
to  affect  or  amuse  this  singular  class  of  men.  A 
number  of  them  went  to  see  Othello  acted  ;  they  de- 
tected at  once  the  diabolical  deceit  of  lago,  and  mut- 
tered their  indignation.    They  became  at  length  so 


L'lO  snip   AND  SHORE. 


absorbed  in  the  performance,  especially  in  the  char- 
acter and  fate  of  Desdemona,  that  when  the  jealous 
Moor  came  out  to  murder  her  in  her  sleep,  they  in- 
stantly sprang  upon  the  stage,  crying  out  "Avast, 
there,  you  black,  bloody  rascal ;"  and  were  in  the  act 
of  seizing  him,  when  the  cm-tain  dropped,  amid  con- 
fusion and  applause. 

This  incident  did  not  occur  here,  or  under  my  ob- 
servation ;  but  the  anecdote  was  related  to  me  by  an 
eye-witness.  It  discloses  striking  traits  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  sailor — his  credulous  propensity — his  quick 
and  deep  susceptibilit}'' — his  electrical  promptitude  in 
rescuing  the  helpless.  He  would  throw  away  forty 
lives  to  protect  an  innocent  being,  and  even  an  enemy 
he  scorns  to  injure,  when  taken  at  a  disadvantage. 

There  is  here,  however,  one  source  of  entertainment 
— if  that  term  maybe  applied  to  anything  belonging  to 
the  sanctuary — which  must  ever  arrest  the  most  care- 
less ear,  and  which,  though  it  make  man  no  better,  it 
surely  cannot  make  him  worse.  It  is  the  splendid 
organ  of  the  cathedral.  I  could  cheerfully  sit  on  the 
cold  pavement  of  that  church,  and  listen  to  it  till  the 
hio-hest  candle  that  ever  lit  the  shrine  of  the  blessed 

en 

Virgin  flickered  in  its  socket.  In  compass,  power, 
and  richness  of  melody,  it  is  said  to  have  no  com- 
petitors, except  one  in  Haarlem,  and  one  in  Catania. 
Almost  every  musical  instrument  is  here  represented, 
and  so  closely  do  some  of  its  tones  resemble  the  hu- 
man voice,  that  when  it  was  first  set  up,  many  of  the 


ORGAN  AT  MAHON.  211 

audience,  in  their  sudden  wonder,  ruslied  out  of  tlie 
cathedral. 

From  the  solemn  and  stately  anthem,  it  passes 
with  melodious  dignity  and  ease  through  all  the 
varied  expressions  of  the  dramatic  chorus,  to  the 
national  ode,  the  capricious  song,  the  vanishing 
air.  At  one  time  it  astounds  and  overwhelms  you 
with  a  bm-st  of  thunder ;  you  involuntarily  look  up, 
and  expect  to  find  the  bolted  cloud  blackening 
over  your  head  ;  and  then  again,  in  the  terminating 
range  of  its  matchless  transitions,  you  imagine  your- 
self listening  to  the  dying  strains  of  an  ^olian 
harp. 

I  could  not  accuse  Lord  Exmouth  of  a  foolish  prod- 
igality in  his  ofier  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  for 
this  noble  instrument.  But  it  was  not  thus  to  be  ob- 
tained. An  Arab  and  his  barb,  a  devotee  and  the 
auxiliaries  of  his  devotion,  are  seldom  parted.  But 
it  needs  not  pride  or  superstition  to  make  one  unwil- 
ling to  part  with  such  a  treasure  as  this.  I  would 
almost  as  soon  relinquish  some  inborn  som'ce  of  hap- 
pmess  and  hoj)e. 

"We  were  concerned  on  reaching  this  port  to  learn 
that  the  health  of  Commodore  Biddle  had  not  im- 
proved since  our  last  advices.  Tlie  duties  of  his  sta- 
tion, as  Commander-in-chief  of  the  Squadron,  require 
a  degree  of  physical  activity  and  energy  which  it  is 
difficult  to  dispense  with,  even  where,  as  in  his  case, 
there  is  found  great  elasticity  and  vigor  of  mind. 


212  SHIP  AJSTD   SHORE. 


But  tliongli  oppressed  mtli  these  outward  disabilities, 
he  is  not  unmiudful  or  negligent  of  the  interests  con- 
fided to  his  care  ;  for  we  had  scarcely  let  go  our  an- 
chor, when  an  order  came  for  us  to  get  ready  to 
proceed  to  sea  with  all  dispatch.  In  the  mean  time, 
he  honored  us  with  an  entertainment,  where  the 
choicest  luxuries  and  delicacies  of  the  island  were 
served,  and  where  the  light  and  terse  remark  went 
sparkling  round,  accompanied  by  many  endearing 
recollections  of  home. 

Tliere  was  at  this  table  dignity  without  reserve, 
and  ease  without  a  gregarian  license ; — there  was 
also  an  unabused  Idomeneusan  privilege  extended  to 
each  guest,  such  as  Homer  thought  not  beneath  the 
melody  of  his  muse : — 

■ vydov  iizas,  aid 


EoTJJx',  (ooirep  ifioi,  iniuv,  ore  6u/j3s  avdyoi. 

The  compliment  of  this  dinner  was  handsomely 
returned  by  Capt.  and  Mrs.  Read,  who  well  under- 
stand how  to  impart  interest  and  pleasure  to  such 
occasions.  I  can  never  leave  one  of  these  entertain- 
ments without  a  boding  thought  of  the  time  when 
these  interchanges  of  sentiment  will  be  intercepted, 
the  gratulations  of  friendship  cease,  and  this  breath- 
ing frame,  inanimate  and  cold,  be  laid  in  its  last  sad 
receptacle,  to  mingle  as  it  may  with  its  native  dust. 
Tlie  slight  memorials  that  may  remain,  and  the  few 
who  may  remember  and  grieve,  must  soon  follow ; 


PAKTING  THOUGHTS.  213 

while  the  thronging  multitudes  of  earth  will  move 
on,  indifferent  to  what  is  gone,  as  the  mighty  forest 
to  the  silent  lapse  of  a  solitary  leaf  Then  what  is 
life !  and  what  its  pursuit ! 

"  An  idle  chase  of  hopes  and  fears, 
Begun  in  folly,  closed  in  tears !" 

But  no,  better  than  that,  and  more  in  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  was  it  said  by  the  grave  poet  of  the 
"  :N"ight  Thoughts  :"— 

"  This  is  the  bud  of  being,  the  dim  dawn, 
The  twilight  of  om-  day,  the  vestibule : 
Life's  theatre  as  yet  is  shut,  and  Death, 
Strong  Death,  alone  can  heave  the  massy  bar, 
This  gross  impediment  of  clay  remove. 
And  make  us  embryos  of  existence  free." 


-l-i  snip  AJTD  sno-RE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  All  hands  unmoor !" — the  captain's  brief  command — 
The  cable  round  the  flying  capstern  rings; 
The  anchor  quits  its  bed,  the  yards  are  manned ; 

The  gallant  ship  before  the  quick  breeze  springs. 
Three  parting  cheers  the  noble  tars  send  back, 
Ere  yet  the  shore  sinks  in  her  foaming  track. 

PASSAGE  FKOM  MAHON  TO    NAPLES LIFE   AT  SEA — CHEST    OF    A    SAILOE 

POWER  OF   A   POET TR,\CK.    OF    THE   SHIP NAPLES    FROM  THE    HARBOR 

UNREASONABLE     QUARANTINE — GRIEVOUS     DISAPPOINTMENT — PREMA- 
TURE DEPARTURE EBULLITION  OF    SPLEEIV PASSAGE  FROM  NAPLES  TO 

MESSINA VOLCANO  OF   STROMBOLI DEAD  CALMS — UTILITY  OF  WHALES 

— PASTIMES    IN    CALMS — FARO    DI    MESSINA CHARYBDIS   AND  SCYLLA — 

ANCIENT   WHIRLPOOL CURIOSITIES    OF   THE   SEA — MESSINA    FROM    THE 

STRAIT. 

Three  days  since  we  weighed  anchor  from  Mahon, 
in  company  with  the  Brandywine,  bearing  the  broad 
pennant  of  Commodore  Biddle.  The  breeze  has 
been  extremely  light  and  baffling ;  and  the  passage, 
though  relieved  occasionally  by  an  interchange  of 
signals,  has  nevertheless  been  thus  far  unusually  des- 
titute of  exciting  incidents.  ITo  bickering  ghost  has 
apjjeared  in  the  cock-pit,  or  on  shroud,  or  spar ;  no 
mermaid  has  tuned  her  scallop-shell  on  the  wave  or 
rock  ;  no  water-spout  has  burst  in  deluge  and  thun 
der;  no  sea-serpent  has  troughed  himself  between 
the  combing  billows  ;  indeed,  there  have  been  no  bil 


PASSAGE  TO  NAPLES.  215 

lows  that  could  for  a  moment  shelter  this  mysteiious 
monster  of  the  deep — whose  sworn  existence  has  been 
a  greater  source  of  curiosity  and  wonder,  than  were 
all  the  discoveries  of  Columbus. 

Where  was  it  that  he  was  last  seen  ?  Ay,  I  recol- 
lect ;  it  was  in  the  polar  seas,  where  he  was  trying  to 
split  up  an  iceberg  with  his  tail.  Every  stroke  was 
followed  by  flashes  of  fire  that  lit  the  whole  heaven, 
and  were  taken  by  those  living  near  the  line  as  the 
most  splendid  and  extraordinary  exhibitions  of  the 
aurora-borealis.  Every  astronomer  through  our  land 
had  his  instruments  newly  cleaned,  and  watched  the 
burning  phenomena,  predicting  not  only  that  the 
north  passage  would  be  reduced  to  one  vast  lake  of 
fire,  but  that  the  north  star,  set  in  conflagration  and 
motion  at  the  same  time,  would  rush  this  way  for  a 
cooler  atmosphere,  and,  coming  in  contact  with  the 
earth,  reduce  the  whole  to  ashes  !  It  is  astonishing 
what  this  Sea-Serpent  may  do  with  a  few  strokes  of 
his  tail !  But — I  was  speaking  of  the  calm  and  slow 
progress  we  were  making  towards  Naples. 

The  sea  has  scarcely  afforded  a  w^ave  that  would 
have  dangerously  rocked  a  log  canoe;  but  then  as 
a  negative  compensation  for  this  delaying  calmness, 
we  have  not  had  that  ceaseless  surging  motion  which 
afflicts  the  Atlantic,  and  which  sickens  a  ship  without 
helping  her  onward.  We  have  had  the  bursting 
splendors  of  a  sun,  wdieeling  up  in  resistless  energy 
from  a  crimsoning  waste  of  waters  that  still  slum- 


21G  SHIP   AND   SHOEE. 

bered  and  slept.  We  have  had  the  soft  beauty  of 
twibght  mingling  its  purple  charm  with  the  rosy 
depths  of  sea  and  sky ;  we  have  had,  through  the 
early  watch,  the  song  of  the  mariner,  breathing  in 
mipolished  numbers  a  patriotic  fervor  that  will  kindle 
on,  when  all  the  set  forms  of  speech  are  cold  and 
forgotten ;  we  have  had  also  the  frequent  cloud,  which, 
though  it  often  disappointed  us  in  its  apparent  prom- 
ise of  a  breeze,  yet  reminded  us  in  the  evanescent 
nature  of  its  own  being,  that  the  life  of  man  itself  is 
only  a  "  vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and 
then  vanisheth  away." 

Would  that  these  delicate  admonitions  in  nature 
might  never  pass  unimproved.  But  few  things,  even 
of  the  highest  moment,  produce  a  permanent  effect 
on  the  mind  of  the  sailor.  Even  the  gale  and  wreck 
are  half  forgotten,  if  they  but  leave  him  a  good  plank 
upon  which  he  may  reach  the  distant  shore.  He 
knows  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth,  yet  sings  his 
jocund  song,  and  sleeps  soundly  every  night  wdth  but 
a  plank  between  him  and  a  fathomless  grave. 

Yet  he  is  not  incapable  of  being  moved,  strongly 
moved,  on  subjects  of  a  religious  character.  His 
heart  is  not  the  impervious  rock ;  it  more  resembles 
the  element  on  which  he  moves,  and  like  that,  loses 
the  impressions  it  may  receive.  He  will  listen  to  a 
sermon  with  an  attention  that  might  be  a  model  to 
any  congregation  of  Christians,  and  then  within  one 
hour,  if  some  new  impulse  strikes  him,  he  is  off  per- 


TRAITS   OF    TIIE   SAILOR.  217 

haps  on  another  tack.  He  respects  religion  and  its 
consistent  professors ;  the  good  man  has  always  his 
confidence  and  esteem. 

The  Bible  is  with  him,  what  it  ought  to  be  with 
every  person — the  book  of  books.  Yet  I  have  seen 
him  take  this  blessed  volume  from  his  clothes-bag, 
leaving  there,  close  to  where  it  lay,  a  grape-shot  at- 
tached to  a  strong  lanyard,  with  which  he  will,  per- 
haps, the  next  time  he  goes  ashore,  knock  over  a 
dozen  insolent  Goliaths. 

Observing  a  sailor  one  day  overhauling  his  effects, 
I  inquired,  "  Where,  Smith,  are  those  tracts  I  gave 
you  the  other  day  ?"  "  Here  they  are,"  he  replied, 
producing  them,  "  all  but  that  one  on  stealing ;  I 
gave  that  to  Joe  Miller — I  never  steal  myself;  but  it 
struck  him  exactly  between  wind  and  water."  "  And 
w^hat  book  is  that  stowed  away  there,  Smith?"  I 
inquired  again ;  "  Oh,  that  is  my  Bible,"  he  replied, 
lifting  it  up,  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand,  "  given 
me  by  my  mother  the  first  time  I  went  to  sea,  when 
I  was  only  a  youngster ;  I  promised  her  I  would  read 
it  every  Sunday  on  shore,  and  every  day  when  out 
sight  of  land.  You  see  I  have  steered  as  close  to  my 
promise  as  any  fellow  can  with  squalls,  and  a  head 
sea  knocking  him  off;  but  I  hope  I  shall  yet  make 
that  blessed  port  where  she  has  gone.  For  she  was 
the  best  mother  that  ever  had  such  a  wild  chap  of  a 
son  as  I  have  been."  He  had  evidently  been  pretty 
true  to  his  word ;  for  the  traces  of  his  fingers  were 

10 


218  SHIP   AKD   SHORE. 


upon  nearly  every  page  of  the  book,  while  the  leaves 
of  the  more  historical  parts  had  been  thumbed  over, 
till  they  were  scarcely  legible. 

"  And  what  is  that  thing  stowed  away  down  there. 
Smith,  next  the  tracts  ?"  I  inquired.  "  Oh,  sir,  that  is 
a  gouger."  "  But  you  do  not  take  out  a  man's  eyes, 
I  hope  ?"  "  Not  unless  a  rascal  is  after  mine,  and 
then  I  blind  one  side  of  his  face  ;  but  I  always  leave 
him  one  eye  standing."  "  Yes,  but  you  take  away 
the  other,  and  what  good  can  that  do  you  ?"  "  Why, 
sir,  he  will  have  one  the  less  to  look  after  me  with  the 
next  time."  I  persuaded  him  at  last  to  throw  the 
unseemly  thing  overboard ;  but  it  will  probably  be 
replaced  by  something  else,  not  a  whit  the  less  ob- 
jectionable. Such  is  the  mixture  of  shrewdness,  filial 
regard,  higher  hopes,  and  moral  obliquities  which 
enters  into  the  character  of  the  sailor.  He  is  an 
ocean  which  no  one  can  fathom,  unless  he  is  able  to 
sound  the  lowest  depths  in  human  nature. 

I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  somehow,  the  moment  I 
get  on  the  deck  of  a  ship,  and  am  out  at  sea,  it  seems 
as  if  I  had  suddenly  been  introduced  into  some  ele- 
ment rife  with  poetry.  If  any  thing  could  reconcile 
me  to  a  sea  life,  it  would  be  the  enjoyment  of  this 
sentiment.  I  reverence  in  the  profoundest  emotions 
of  my  soul,  the  gifted  poet.  He  is  intellectually,  in 
my  opinion,  the  most  interesting  object  in  the  world. 
He  awakens  and  wields  at  will,  all  the  finer  feelings 
and  master  passions  of  om*  nature.     His  art  is  of  a 


rOWEK   OF   THE   POET.  219 


far  higlier  and  more  effective  order  than  that  of  the 
sculj)tor  or  painter.  He  not  only  represents,  but  he 
imparts  life ;  and  this,  no  one  can  so  thoroughly  effect 
with  the  pencil  or  chisel. 

We  may,  to  some  extent,  animate  the  canvas  with 
the  featm-es  of  one  we  love ;  we  may  cast  upon  the 
changeless  brow,  the  calm  sunshine  of  her  gentle  na- 
ture ; — we  may  elicit  from  the  expressive  eye,  the 
speechless  tenderness  of  a  confiding  affection — we 
may  curl  around  the  lip  the  smiling  pledges  of  re- 
ciprocal fondness — we  may  spread  behind  her  glow- 
ing cheek,  the  richness  of  her  flowing  tresses — we 
may  cast  around  the  symmetry  of  her  form,  the  soft- 
ness of  her  graceful  drapery ;  and  we  may  give  her 
the  air  in  which  romantic  devotion  ever  beholds  the 
angel  of  its  vows.  We  may  represent,  near  at  hand, 
the  favorite  glen  in  which  she  strayed — the  moonlit 
arbor  in  which  she  sung — the  silvery  lake  on  which 
she  sailed.  We  may  look  on  this  representation  of 
life  and  nature,  and  deem  it  reality.  We  may  gaze 
till  bewildered  sense  reels  in  rapture.  But  look  again 
— the  floating  vision  becomes  more  calm — ^the  asso- 
ciations less  vivid — the  emotions  in  our  breast  sub- 
side. But  look  again — here  and  there  a  new  shade 
may  be  developed,  here  and  there  an  unfamiliar  ex- 
pression be  caught.  But  look  again — it  is  what  you 
have  seen  before — it  is  a  mass  of  changeless,  pulse- 
less shadows ! 

But  give  this  glowing  subject  to  the  poet,  smTender 


220  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


it  to  the  magic  of  his  genius — the  changeless  object 
lives — the  motionless  object  moves — the  silent  object 
speaks.  The  heart  where  quenched  existence  had  its 
grave  is  kindled,  and  renovated  life  gleams  through 
its  shroud,  as  the  warm  sun  through  its  light  vesture 
of  clouds.  The  fount  of  feeling  is  stirred,  and  its 
currents  come  forth,  fresh  as  the  overflowings  of  a 
spring,  when  it  melts  away  the  icy  fetters  of  winter. 
The  features  lose  their  fixed  expression,  and  are  ra- 
diant with  a  bright  train  of  passing  thoughts,  and 
glad  imaginings.  Ho^^e  is  there,  mingling  its  colors 
with  the  shades  of  doubt ; — confidence  is  there,  ban- 
ishing distrust; — afiection  is  there,  lighting  up  ad- 
versity.    Every  feature  lives,  every  look  tells. 

We  not  only  see  the  glen,  but  hear  the  soft  whis- 
pers of  the  breeze,  the  mirthful  voice  of  the  brook  ; — 
we  not  only  see  the  arbor,  but  hear  the  echoes,  waking 
from  their  slumbers,  repeat  the  favorite  strain ; — we 
not  only  see  the  lake,  but  hear  the  light  drip  of  the 
suspended  oar,  and  the  soft  murmur  of  the  breaking 
wave.  Every  object  is  animated,  and  lives  before  us 
in  palpable  reality.  We  may  gaze — and  turn  away 
— and  gaze  again — but  new  images,  new  sounds,  new 
feelings,  and  new  associations  crowd  upon  us  like 
stars  on  the  steadfast  vision  of  the  astronomer. 

Or  we  may  shape  the  marble  to  the  features  of  the 
man  we  venerate  ;  we  may  render  these  features  ra- 
diant with  the  qualities  of  his  mind  and  heart ;  we 
may  make  the  ruling  passion  brightly  appai'ent  upon 


POWER  OF  THE   POET.  221 

the  majestic  brow ;  we  may  give  the  cornitenance 
that  peculiar  cast  which  calls  up  the  lofty,  and  the 
tender  recollection ;  and  we  may  imagine  the  de- 
parted sage  still  existent  and  before  us  in  undecaying 
strength ;  but  lay  our  hand  on  this  faultless  resem- 
blance— the  clay  of  the  grave  is  not  colder — it  is 
death  with  its  icy  chill ! 

But  commit  this  departed  saint  to  the  gifted  spirit 
of  the  poet :  the  veil  of  the  grave  is  rent — the  silent 
sleeper  called  up  from  the  couch  of  corruption,  and 
dressed  in  the  garments  of  immortality.  His  actions 
are  grouped  around  him  in  the  brightness  of  their  first 
appearance ;  his  feelings  recalled  in  the  freshness  of 
their  infancy  ;  his  secret  motives  are  revealed  in  the 
purity  with  which  they  were  conceived  ;  and  his 
generous  purposes,  which  perished  in  the  bud,  re- 
vived and  expanded  into  fragrant  life.  You  see  the 
whole  man,  not  in  cold  marble,  not  in  awful  ab- 
straction from  his  fellow-beings,  but  within  the 
warm  precincts  of  friendship,  love,  and  veneration, 
invested  with  the  sympathies  and  attributes  of  real 
existence.  Such  is  tlie  power  of  the  poet — such 
his  mastery  over  life  and  death  !  He  stands,  prophet- 
like, over  a  vast  ocean  of  thought,  passion,  and 
sympathy,  that  heaves  and  rolls  at  the  stroke  of 
his  wand. 

The  breeze  for  which  we  have  been  long  and  anx- 
iously looking  has  come  at  last.  It  is  light,  but  fair, 
and  promises  to  take  us  to  our  port ;  for  before  this 


222  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


watcli  goes  out  we  are  expecting  to  hear  the  cry  of 
"laud"  from  mast-head. 

It  is  now  one  of  those  soft  and  brilliant  days,  which 
are  no  strangers  to  the  clime  of  Italy ;  and  our  ships, 
imder  a  light,  easy  sail,  are  passing  ^^p  the  splendid 
bay  of  Naples.  This  bay  circles  up  bold  and  beauti- 
ful into  the  land;  where  it  lies  quietly  imbosomed 
within  a  sweeping  range  of  green  and  picturesque 
elevations.  The  city,  from  the  shelving  shore,  ascends 
majestically  this  amphitheatre  of  hills,  presenting  at 
a  glance  its  palaces,  domes,  temples,  and  towers,  with 
all  the  fresher  luxuries  of  the  garden  and  the  grove. 
More  remote,  and  towering  far  above  all,  stands  Ve- 
suvius—a  magnificent  "  pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and 
of  fire  by  night." 

All  the  nobler  elements — earth,  air,  flame  and 
flood — have  mingled  the  romance  of  their  richest 
triumi^hs,  above,  beneath,  and  around  Naples.  And 
then,  as  if  to  excite  the  last  degree  of  admiring  won- 
der and  awaken  an  insatiable  curiosity,  the  veil  of 
centm-ies  has  been  rent,  and  the  embalmed  remains  of 
a  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  brought  up  from  their 
long  mysterious  repose !  Thus  the  present  and  the 
past,  the  charms  of  the  living  and  the  hallowed  beau- 
ty of  the  dead  move  before  us,  in  the  centre  of  a  scene 
that  might  of  itself  almost  induce  an  angel  to  pause 
on  his  earnest  mission. 

But  it  is  our  privilege  only  to  look  and  admire ;  for 
all  communication  with  the  shore  has  been  cut  ofi"  by 


PAINS   OF  QUAEANTINE.  223 


the  imposition  of  a  quarantine ;  though  there  is  not 
the  slightest  disease,  or  scarcely  a  case  of  indisposi- 
tion on  board ;  nor  have  we  been  where  it  was  possi- 
ble for  us  to  reach  any  exposure.  There  would  have 
been  as  much  sense  in  Adam's  quarantining  Eve, 
when  he  saw  her  first  come  in  blushing  beauty  to  his 
bower.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that  our  fair  mother 
would  have  borne  the  restrictions,  had  our  noble 
progenitor  unaccountably  imposed  them,  with  vastly 
more  good-nature  than  it  is  possible  for  us  to  muster 
on  this  occasion. 

Our  quarantine  is  for  seven  days ;  but  before  we 
can  ride  it  out,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  for  the 
Levant !  This  is  a  draft  on  a  man's  resignation,  heavy 
enough  to  shake  the  self-complacent  credit  of  any  Chris- 
tian or  philosopher.  Here  we  lie,  only  a  few  cables' 
length  from  the  shore,  seeing  the  picturesque  mul- 
titude passing  on  their  unknown  errands — the  pleas- 
ure party  floating  off  for  some  rural  retreat,  in  gayety 
and  glee — the  monarch  and  his  court  moving  with 
all  the  ensigns  of  royalty — the  wandering  minstrel 
tuning  his  reed,  and  turning  even  his  sorrows  into 
melody — hearing  through  the  long  evening  the  loud 
cheei*s  of  some  festive  hearts,  or  the  bursting  chonis 
of  St.  Carlos,  as  it  comes  wafted  on  the  wind ;  while 
the  frequented  gardens  gleam  with  the  radiance  of 
their  countless  lights,  and  the  flame  of  Vesuvius 
fringes  with  fire  the  wings  of  the  passing  cloud. 

All  these  are  to  be  left  unrealized — unapproached  ! 


224  snip   AND   SHORE. 


and  this,  too,  in  compliance  with  the  mockeries  of  a 
senseless  quarantine !  But  this  scene,  so  bright,  so 
gay,  and  seemingly  so  full  of  happiness,  I  know  full 
well  is  all  an  illusion — a  fleeting  phantom.  It  is  a 
flower  that  springs  from  corruption — a  laughter  at  the 
g]»ave. 

How  darkly  changed  this  world  since  that  first  hour, 
When  o'er  its  brightness  sung  the  morning  stars  ! 

Time,  death,  and  sin,  and  sorrow  had  no  power 
Upon  its  beauty :  man,  who  madly  mars 

His  Maker's  works,  has  swept  it  with  a  flood 

Of  tears  and  groans,  and  deluged  it  with  blood. 

It  has  become  a  Golgotha,  where  lie 

The  bleaching  bones  of  nations :  every  wave 

Breaks  on  a  shore  of  skulls ;  and  every  sigh 
The  low  wind  murmurs  fortli,  seems  as  it  gave 

This  mournful  tribute,  unobserved  and  deep, 

To  millions — for  whom  man  has  ceased  to  weep. 

It  is  a  dim  and  shadowy  sepulchre, 

In  which  the  dying  and  the  dead  become 

The  hearse  of  all  the  living ;  yet  the  stir 
And  sting  of  serpent-passion,  and  the  hum 

Of  jocund  life  survive,  with  but  a  breath 

Between  this  reckless  revelry  and  death. 

It  is  a  rolling  tomb,  rumbling  along, 

In  gloom  and  darkness,  through  the  shuddering  spheres  • 
And  filled  with  death  and  life,  and  wail  and  song, 

Laughter  and  agony,  and  jests  and  tears  ; 
And — save  its  heartless  mirth,  and  ceaseless  knell — 
Wearing  a  ghastly  glimmering  type  of  hell ! 


VOLCANO   OF   STEOISIBOLI.  225 

Our  anchor  was  again  weighed,  our  lighter  sails 
unfmied,  and,  swinging  round  near  the  Brandywine, 
we  received  the  parting  benediction  of  three  cheers, 
which  were  returned  more  in  sadness  than  mirth. 
All  our  canvas  was  soon  spread  to  a  light  breeze 
which  began  to  prevail  from  the  northeast ;  and, 
passing  out  the  ample  bay,  we  held  om-  course  along 
the  soft  shores  of  Italv,  for  the  straits  of  Messina. 
"We  met  with  no  objects  calculated  to  leave  a  distinct 
and  abiding  impression  till  we  reached  the  lofty 
steeps  of  Stromboli.  AYe  passed  the  burning  mount 
of  this  lonely  island  in  the  night;  it  was  still  kin- 
dling its  magnificent  w^atch-fire  in  the  sky.  It  has 
been  termed,  with  significant  propriety,  the  light- 
house of  the  Mediterranean. 

How  triumphant  is  nature,  in  all  her  works,  over 
the  achievements  of  man!  He  lights  his  anxious 
beacon  on  the  verge  of  some  troubled  coast,  and,  by 
unremitted  watcliings,  is  able  perhaps,  for  a  little 
time,  to  sustain  its  poor  perishing  ray.  But  nature, 
at  once,  without  an  effort,  kindles  up  a  beacon-flame 
that  lights  an  ocean,  and  burns  on  through  ages  un- 
dimmed  and  unexhausted !  The  tempest  may  prevail 
above,  the  earthquake  rock  beneath,  navies  sink,  and 
nations  perish  ;  but  this  flame  burns  on  with  a  serene 
and  lofty  splendor — quenchless  as  the  light  of  the 
sun  ! 

We  are  again  in  a  dead  calm — like  a  politician  in 
disgrace ;  but  the  misfortune  is,  we  have  not  his  fa- 

10* 


226  SHU'   AND   SHORE. 


cilities  for  getting  out  of  it.  He  lias  only  to  go  over 
to  the  other  party,  and  his  very  blots  become  hon- 
orable scars.  It  requires,  to  be  sure,  a  little  flexibil- 
ity of  conscience ;  but  what  a  fool  a  man  is  to  be 
sticking  to  principles,  when  office,  honor,  and  wealth 
lie  in  a  difierent  quarter  !  It  is  like  keeping  "  Poor 
Julia's  Ring,"  and  watering  the  flowers  at  her  grave, 
when  living  damsels  with  their  beauty  and  their 
bowers  invite  one  away.  Remembrance  cannot 
bring  back  to  life  the  one  that  has  perished  from 
our  bosom  ;  nor  can  fidelity  to  j^rinciples  that  have 
become  unpopular  reinstate  them  in  the  humor  of 
the  age. 

Most  men  seem  to  think  the  better  way  is  to  leave 
them  to  their  fate,  and  take  after  those  where  some- 
thing may  be  got  besides  the  stale  credit  of  believing 
this  year  what  we  did  last.  It  shows  no  march  of 
mind.  It  is  merely  repeating  the  past ;  it  is  chasing 
the  rainbow  in  om*  gray  hairs,  because  we  did  it  in 
the  sunny  locks  of  childhood.  Is  the  nurse's  tale  of 
the  silver  spoons  always  to  be  believed  ?  No ;  the 
better  way  is  for  a  man  to  change  his  creed,  and  his 
character  too,  when  the  times  require.  A  coat  that 
is  often  turned  will  outwear  ten  that  never  undergo 
this  revolution ;  and,  what  is  more,  it  will  never  be 
rusty.  It  may  have  in  the  end  a  variety  of  colors, — 
but  so  has  the  peacock,  and  who  thinks  the  less  ot 
that  bird  for  the  numberless  dyes  which  sprinkle  the 
beautiful  spread  of  its  tail  ?      But  what  have  pea- 


CALM    AT   SEA,  22' 


cocks  and  politicians  to  do  with  our  getting  to  the 
Levant  ? 

We  are  still  in  this  dead  calm.  I  wonder  that  in 
this  age  of  moon-touching  balloons,  steam  shaving- 
machines,  and  patents  for  prolonging  life,  it  has 
never  occurred  to  anj  one  that  the  whale  may  be 
tm-ned  to  a  most  excellent  account,  I  allude  not  to 
his  blubber — I  leave  that  to  poets  and  all  who  burn 
the  midnight  taper ;  I  refer  to  his  strength — his 
power  of  going  ahead.  Just  catch  about  forty  of 
these  fellows — by  some  process  similar  to  that  used 
in  catching  the  wild  horse  of  our  prairies — and  har- 
ness them,  two  abreast,  to  a  man-of-war,  with  a 
taut  rein  in  the  hand  of  father  IN^eptune,  who,  I 
have  no  doubt,  could  be  prociu-ed  as  postillion,  and 
then  good-by  to  your  steam,  though  it  have  a  mil- 
lion horse-power,  and  a  thunder-cloud  for  its  safety- 
valve  !  I  intend  applying  to  Congress  for  funds  to 
make  the  experiment,  or  at  least  for  some  special 
privileges  on  the  subject.  But  the  difficulty  would 
be,  if  that  body  were  to  get  upon  a  discussion  of  its 
merits,  the  Nantucket  boys,  seeing  that  in  the  event 
of  my  success,  "  Othello's  occupation's  gone,"  would 
harpoon  every  whale  before  Congress  had  finished 
their  speeches,  or  I  had  obtained  my  patent,  I  must 
therefore  hit  upon  some  expedient  that  may  expe- 
dite the  delivery  of  these  speeches.  The  thought 
strikes  me — 


228  SHIP   AND    SHOEE. 


To  save  at  once  this  fatal  waste  of  time, 
I'll  get  a  gun  that  works  by  fire  and  steam ; 

And  then  let  every  member  load  and  prime, 
With  all  the  speeches  he  can  write  or  dream ; 

For  Perkins  being  right,  this  patent  power 

Will  shoot  off  ninety  thousand  in  an  hour. 

The  steep  rocks  of  Stromboli  are  still  in  sight : 
wlien  they  will  sink  in  the  distance  I  know  not :  we 
have  not  logged  a  fathom  for  several  watches  ;  our 
sails  hang  idlj  against  the  mast ;  our  dog- vane  has 
gone  to  sleep ;  we  are  in  a  motionless  calm. 

Sated  with  gazing  on  this  sleeping  sea. 

Some  seek  their  lines  and  set  themselves  to  angling ; 

Some  take  to  politics,  and,  being  free 

Of  fact  and  full  of  feeling,  foil  to  wrangling ; 

While  some,  reckless  alike  of  soul  and  body. 

Practise  at  fisti-cuffs,  and  drink  their  toddy. 

While  others,  more  sedate,  lie  stretched  at  length, 
Yawning  on  coils  of  rope,  the  deck,  or  cot  ; 

A  few  while  off  their  time  in  feats  of  strength ; 
Wliile  here  and  there  one,  restless  of  his  lot, 

Thinks  only  of  a  distant  eye  and  lip, 

And  rues  the  day  on  which  he  saw  a  ship. 

Some  look  up  to  the  sky  and  watch  each  cloud. 
As  it  displays  its  faint  and  fleeting  form ; 

Some  o'er  the  calm  begin  to  mutter  loud, 

And  swear  they  would  exchange  it  for  a  storm, 

Tornado,  any  thing — to  put  a  close 

To  this  most  dead,  monotonons  repose. 


STRAITS   OF    MESSIXA.  229 

Wliat  if  that  oath  were  heard  ?  what  if  the  gale, 
Rashly  invoked,  should  lift  the  surging  sea — 

This  noble  ship  be  swept  of  mast  and  sail, 
And  breakers  lift  their  voice  beneath  her  lee  ? 

Those  lips  might  only  breathe  the  strangling  tone 

Of  one  expiring  gasp  and  bubbling  groan. 

Death  is  a  fearful  thing,  come  how  it  may — 
Fearful  when  it  comes  on  like  some  repose 

In  which  our  breath  and  being  ebb  away 
As  music  to  its  mild,  melodious  close, 

And  where  no  parting  pangs  a  shadow  cast 

On  that  sweet  look,  the  lovliest  and  the  last. 

Not  in  this  form  the  shipwrecked  sailor  dies, — 

A  sudden  tempest,  or  a  latent  rock, 
And  on  the  gale  his  fluttering  canvas  flies. 

Or  down  he  sinks  in  one  engulfing  shock  ; 
While  through  the  closing  wave  is  heard  his  prayer 
As  now  he  strikes  his  strong  arms  in  despair. 

The  breeze  at  last  came,  and  Stromboli  sunk  in  the 
horizon.  On  reacliing  the  Straits — the  Faro  di  Mes- 
sina— we  realized  but  few  of  those  obstructions  and 
perils  which  so  threatened  and  impeded  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  ancients.  It  is  true,  that  what  may  have 
carried  dismay  and  disaster  to  their  frail  galleys, 
which  seldom  ventured  out  sight  of  land,  may  be 
perfectly  harmless  to  our  keeled  masses  of  daring  and 
conquering  strength.  But  still,  it  is  inconceivable 
how  even  their  diminutive  ships,  with  their  double 
banks  of  oars,  and  muscular  arms  to  manage  them, 
could  have  found  such  a  serious  source  of  difficulty 


230  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


and  apprehension.  The  man  who  should  now,  like 
the  hero  of  Yirgil,  circumnavigate  the  island  of 
Sicilj^,  to  escape  the  dangers  of  these  straits,  would 
be  an  object  of  merriment.  But  ^neas  must  be  for- 
given ;  he  not  onlj  followed  the  warning  voice  of  an 
oracle,  but  Palinurus,  his  pilot,  was  little  skilled  in  his 
profession,  and  had  also  an  unfortunate  tendency  to 
slumber  on  his  watch. 

Tlie  oft-quoted  proverb,  which  so  briefly  dooms  a 
man  to  ruin,  tm-n  which  way  he  will — 

Incidit  in  Scyllam,  qui  vult  vitare  Charybdem, 

may  flourish  very  well  as  a  figure  of  speech  in  a 
younker's  first  oratorical  display  ;  but  it  has  no  foun- 
dation in  truth.  A  log  canoe,  paddled  with  a  decent 
degree  of  skill,  may  shun  Charybdis  without  falling 
upon  Scylla.  Yet  story  relates  how  enormous  ships 
have  been  dashed  to  fragments  upon  this  mountain 
rock ;  or,  in  their  escape  of  this  disaster,  have  fallen 
within  the  sweep  of  the  opposite  whirlpool,  where, 
after  being  carried  about  in  helpless  plight  upon  the 
absorbing  circle,  they  have  gone  down  and  disap- 
peared forever.  If  there  be  beneath  these  devouring 
waters  mermaids  of  taste  and  a  piratical  conscience, 
doubtless  their  fair  fingers  are  now  adorned  with 
many  a  jewelled  ring  that  once  flashed  on  the  hand 
of  Grecian  beauty.  What  mysteries  doth  not  the 
sea  contain,  which  will  never  be  unfolded  or  even 
conjectured ! 


CHAEYBDIS   AND   SCTLLA.  231 


I  have  often  thought  that  of  all  revelations  in  na- 
ture, an  exhibition  of  the  secrets  of  the  sea  would 
possess  the  most  thrilling  interest.  Were  I  j^ermitted 
to  explore  but  one  untra versed  realm,  I  should  pre- 
fer that  vast  empire  of  cm-iosities  which  lies  within 
and  beneath  the  ocean.  How  little  do  we  know  of 
it !  "We  catch  a  luckless  fish  and  classify  it,  because 
•it  has  fins  like  something  which  we  have  seen  be- 
fore ;  we  draw  up  a  lobster,  and  because  he  has  wide 
claws,  determine  that  he  may  either  crawl  or  swim  ; 
we  detach  a  bit  of  coral  from  its  low  mound  or  tree, 
and  because  it  has  cells,  decide  that  some  insect-bee 
of  the  water  must  have  formed  it ;  or  we  pick  up  a 
few  shells  which  the  returning  tide  has  left  on  the 
beach  as  unworthy  of  its  care,  and  because  they  are 
not  fovmd  on  the  roofs  of  our  houses,  declare  them 
most  rare  curiosities. 

Thus  ends  our  knowledge,  but  not  our  pride  and 
prattle ;  for  those  who  can  utter  the  most  absurdities 
about  these  strange  things  are  dubbed  philosophers  ; 
and  the  whole  world  is  expected  to  do  homage  to  the 
depth,  extent,  and  minuteness  of  their  learning. 
How  entirely  the  greatness  of  one  rests  on  the  igno- 
rance of  another!  Strike  away  the  foundation  and 
the  fabric  falls. 

But  I  forget  the  straits  and  their  poetical  terrors. 
Homer  describes  Scylla  as  a  steep  mass  of  rock, 
towering  so  near  the  sky  that  even  a  thin  cloud  can- 
not shove  itself  between  without  having  its  drapery 


232  SHIP   AND   SUOEE. 


raked  oif ;  when  in  truth,  it  has  scarcely  an  elevation 
of  two  hundred  feet,  with  a  little  fort  on  the  top, 
harmless  alike  to  the  bird  that  floats  above  and  the 
ship  that  sails  beneath.  As  for  the  monsters  which 
Yirgil  or  his  muse  heard  howl  so  terrifically  around 
the  base  of  the  rock,  they  are  nothing  more  than  the 
echoes  of  the  waves  entering  rather  unceremoniously 
a  few  low  caverns  ;  but  which  have  not  a  fierceness 
of  accent  sufiicient  to  startle  a  young  duck  from  its 
slumber. 

The  whirlpool  of  Charybdis — from  whose  devour- 
ing vortex  Ulysses  escaped  alone  to  tell  the  tale  of 
his  lost  ship  and  perished  crew — exhibits  now  only 
a  broken  disquietude  of  wave,  without  even  a  uni- 
formity of  circle,  much  less  an  absorbing  centre. 
Brydone,  to  vindicate  the  nautical  skill  of  the  hero, 
and  the  sober  veracity  of  the  muse,  would  fain  make 
us  believe  that  a  deluge  of  rocks  has  been  carried 
into  this  vortex,  and  that  thus  it  has  become  the 
tame  thing  we  now  see.  This  learned  skeptic  could 
not  3'ield  his  faith  to  the  reasonableness  of  the  Mo- 
saic history,  and  yet  conceives  that  rocks  may  float 
around  like  slabs,  and  finally  fill  up  a  pit  which  was 
deemed  almost  bottomless !  How  admirably  the 
creed  of  a  man  may  adapt  itself  to  his  pride  and 
prejudice!  He  creates  a  w^orld  from  accidents  to 
sustain  a  theory,  and  destroys  it  by  the  same  agency 
to  establish  a  conjecture ! 

On  the  projecting  land,  to  which  Charybdis  is  a 


ASPECT   OF   MESSESTA.  233 

sort  of  threatening  outpost,  we  observed  a  scattered 
collection  of  dwellings,  the  appearance  of  which 
would  seem  to  intimate  that  the  fabled  horrors  of 
this  pass  had  still  power  not  only  to  intimidate  the 
mariner,  but  even  to  drive  happiness  and  hope  from 
the  hearth  of  the  peasant.  But  I  do  not  wonder  that 
men  should  hesitate  to  build  there,  or  tremble  over 
an  hour's  delay  on  that  spot ;  for  it  was  here  that  in 
the  dreadful  earthquake  of  1783,  two  thousand  per- 
ished. The  waters  of  the  strait  were  violently 
heaved  from  their  bed  over  their  natural  boundary, 
and  the  returning  sm-ge  left  but  here  and  there  one, 
even  to  weep  over  the  desolation. 

But  Messina,  as  we  glided  slowly  up  to  it  through 
the  channel,  mainl}''  fixed  our  attention.  It  lies  in 
the  form  of  a  crescent,  sweeping  up  an  easy  eleva- 
tion of  hills,  with  a  backgi'ound  of  bolder  eminences, 
and  the  clustering  depths  of  forest  shade.  The  har- 
bor lies  deep  and  tranquil,  embosomed  within  the 
circling  shore  and  a  salient  reach  of  land,  whose  fal- 
cated form  stretches  nearly  round  it,  protecting  it 
from  the  invading  currents  and  rushing  surge  of  the 
strait.  The  busy  aspect  of  the  quays,  and  the  varied 
flags  which  floated  above  the  anchored  craft,  showed 
that  Messina  had  not  yet  lost  its  consideration  in  the 
commercial  world.  It  has  been  the  most  unfortunate 
of  cities.  The  earthquake  and  plague  have  alter- 
nately made  it  their  victims.      It  has  been  the  sad 


234  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


arena  where,  through  centuries,  foreign  avarice  and 
despotism  have  played  their  bloody  game. 

How  fallen  is  Sicily  !  once  the  granary  of  Europe, 
now  almost  begging  her  bread  ;  once  giving  laws  to 
nations,  now  the  veriest  slave  of  a  petty  prince ; 
once  the  source  of  science  and  freedom,  now  without 
light  to  discover  her  own  rights,  or  courage  to  main- 
tain them. 

Land  of  a  past  and  perished  greatness,  wake ! 

Let  sire  and  son  now  draw  the  battle-glaive, 
Their  long-endured,  disgraceful  fetters  break, 

And  strongly  strike  for  freedom  or  the  grave; 
Swear  not  to  clank  the  chain,  to  blush  and  weep 
On  those  proud  hills  in  which  your  fixthers  sleep. 


EXGUESION   TO   MOUNT   ETNA.  235 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

O  WHAT  a  glorious  sight ! — the  sweet  mom  blushing 
Through  drops  of  night,  more  beautiful  appears 

Than  any  damsel  with  the  rich  blood  flushing 

Her  modest  cheeks,  while  they  are  batlied  in  tears : — 

Ton  httle  cloud,  that  spent  the  night  in  weeping. 

Now  upward  soars,  as  into  heaven  creeping. 

EXCURSION   TO    MOUNT   ETNA SLEEPING    IN  A  CORN-FIELD INCIDENTS   OF 

THE    ASCENT STORM    AT    NIGHT VIEW  FROM  THE  SUMMIT DESCENT 

CATANIA GAYETY  OF  THE    LIVING  ABOVE    THE    DEAD MUSEUM    OF    THE 

PRINCE    OF     BISCARI FRANCISCAN    MONK PASSAGE    FROM    MESSINA    TO 

MILO MURAT  AND    NEY TIDES  OF  THE    STRAIT ISLAND    OF    CANDIA 

ISLAND    OF     CERIGO ASPECT     OF    MILO HISTORIC     INCIDENTS GREEK 

PILOT MEDICINAL  SPRINGS NATURAL  GROTTOES ANCIENT  TOMBS. 

We  were  now  on  shore  at  Messina — not  to  survey 
and  admire  its  monuments,  or  weep  over  its  political 
degradation.  "We  were  charterino"  two  vehicles  of 
sufficient  strength  to  take  us  to  the  foot  of  Moimt 
Etna.  Some  of  mj  comj)anions  suggested  the  pro- 
priety of  first  visiting  the  cathedral,  as  the  stately 
columns  which  support  its  gilded  roof  once  belonged 
to  a  proud  temple  of  Neptune  ;  but  being  in  a  state 
of  negotiation  with  this  aquatic  charioteer  to  drive 
my  whales  as  soon  as  I  should  get  them  fairly  har- 
nessed, and  knowing  how  compliments  in  such  cases 
always  increase  prices,  I  declined.  Others  mentioned 
a  beautiful  being  in  the  nunnery  of  St.  Gregorio,  but 


236  enip  AiHD  shore. 


the  face  of  her  who  dwells  in  Santa  Clara  was  yet  too 
bright  and  perfect  in  my  thoughts — that  sweet  image 
shall  rest  there  unmixed  and  unmarred.  I  was  for 
Mount  Etna,  though  every  leaf  of  the  forests  that 
stretch  between  should  become  a  timid  nnn. 

We  left  in  two  hackney  coaches,  and  with  Etna  in 
our  thoughts,  took  but  little  notice  of  objects  by  the 
way : — a  man  in  piu*suit  of  a  whale  never  stops  to 
harpoon  a  porpoise.  We  paused  for  a  few  moments 
to  dine,  but  whether  on  fowl  or  fish,  I  know  not ;  nor 
can  I  speak  of  the  characteristics  of  the  host  or  host- 
ess :  the  huntsman  tracking  the  lion,  is  not  expected 
to  notice  the  squirrel  that  chatters  and  cracks  his  nuts 
on  the  limb.  Kight  came  on,  but  we  bade  our  pos- 
tillion not  to  stop  while  man  or  beast  could  keep  the 
road,  or  find  it  if  lost.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
we  fell  asleep  ;  but  the  hero  of  Marengo  and  Auster- 
litz  slept  before  the  battle  of  Waterloo  : 

"  He  sleeps ! — wliile  earth  around  him  reels, 
And  mankind's  million  hosts  combine, 

Against  the  sceptre-sword  which  seals 
Their  fate  from  Lapland  to  the  Line — 
While,  like  a  giant  roused  from  wine, 

Grim  Europe,  startling,  watches  him, 
The  warrior  lord  of  Lodi's  field — 
O'er  Jena's  rout  who  shook  his  shield — 

Is  hushed  in  slumber  dim  !" 

We  slept  also  ! — not  to  awake  like  him,  amid  thun- 
der, conflagration,  and  carnage,  but  to  a  situation 


TRAVELLIKG   INCIDENT.  2-? 7 


seemingly  as  full  of  peril.  Our  horses  had  stopped  ; 
it  was  the  hush  of  midnight ;  and  what  but  the  strong 
arms  of  robbers  could  be  at  the  bit !  One  seized  a 
pair  of  pistols,  another  an  old  broadsword.  I  levelled 
a  blunderbuss — knowing  its  bell-muzzle  to  have  a 
scattering  faculty  that  must  strike  some  one,  however 
tremulously  untrue  the  aim.  We  discovered,  how- 
ever, no  enemy,  no  daring  demander  of  life  or  purse. 
The  fact  was,  our  postillion  had  long  since  sunk  to 
sleep  ;  the  reins  and  whip  had  fallen  from  his  hands, 
and  the  horses,  which  had  been  hard  pushed  through 
the  day,  not  partaking  of  our  enthusiasm,  had  wan- 
dered— probably  to  look  out  for  the  feed  which  our 
impatience  had  denied  them — far  away  into  an  old 
corn-field : 

"  In  a  corn-field,  high  and  dry, 

There  lay  gun-boat  number  one, 
Wiggle  wiggle  went  its  tail, 
And  popit  went  its  gun." 

But  our  craft  did  not  even  wiggle ;  and  my  blun- 
derbuss, so  far  from  being  in  a  condition  to  give  no- 
tice of  our  distress,  had  no  flint  in  its  lock, — indeed, 
the  lock  itself  was  among  the  missing !  How  this 
fact  should  have  escaped  me,  when  I  levelled  at  what 
I  supposed  to  be  a  robber,  is  a  thing  which  I  cannot 
fully  explain  ;  but  I  did  then  suppose  that  a  pull  of 
the  trigger  would  be  fatal  to  somebody.  I  am  thank- 
ful, on  the  whole,  that  there  was  no  robber  and  no 
lock ;  for  I  never  liked  the  idea  of  killing  a  fellow- 


23S  SHIP  AND  snoRE, 

being;  I  should  prefer,  but  for  the  reflection  it  luiglit 
bring  on  mj  courage,  to  be  robbed.  I  always  admired 
one  trait  in  Falstalf — he  never  injured  living  man ; 
even  on  the  field  of  battle  his  assaults  were  upon 
those,  who,  without  the  least  pang,  derived  from  every 
blow  he  dealt  only  another  evidence  that  they  had 
fought  bravely — he  wounded  only  the  dead  ! 

Such  indeed  were  his  principles  of  humanity,  his 
nice  sense  of  honor,  that  sooner  than  draw  his  sword 
upon  any  living  being,  he  would,  where  a  reputation 
for  courage  required  that  blood  should  be  drawn, 
wound  himself.  I  present  him  to  those  who  have 
renounced  the  riglits  of  self-defence,  as  the  best  ex- 
emplar I  have  ever  yet  met  with  of  their  self-sacri- 
ficing nonentities. 

Where  was  it  we  brought  up  ? — ay,  I  recollect — it 
was  in  the  corn-field.  Our  postillion  with  his  head 
rolled  over  on  to  one  shoulder,  and  his  idle  arms 
resting  before  him,  was  still  in  deep  slumber ;  while 
his  brutes  were  making,  at  drowsy  intervals,  their 
long  and  slowly  recovered  nods.  Take  them  as  a 
group,  they  were  the  very  type  of  sleep.  To  rouse 
them  at  once  and  effectually,  I  determined,  upon  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  to  discharge  the  blunderbuss, 
kill  whom  it  might.  But  then  that  want  of  a  lock — 
it  was  a  poser ;  besides,  the  barrel  had  no  powder  in 
it — a  thing  which,  I  am  told,  contributes  considerably 
to  the  noise.  At  last  I  raised  several  tremendous 
whoops — a  faculty  which  I  acquired  diu'ing  my  resi- 


APPROACH   TO   MOUNT   ETNA.  239 

dence  among  the  Potawattamies,  on  the  shore  of 
Lake  Michigan.  It  had  the  effect — man  and  beast 
awoke  from  their  sea  of  dreams,  and  even  Night, 
startino;  from  his  ebon  throne,  let  fall  his  leaden  wand. 

After  boxing  about  some  time  among  the  bushes  to 
find  a  substitute  for  our  lost  whip,  we  started — re- 
covered the  road,  and  though  anxious  to  make  up  by 
a  forced  speed  for  the  time  lost  in  the  corn-field,  yet 
we  did  not  reach  Catania  till  a  late  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing. Here  we  took  thirteen  mules — five  as  substi- 
tutes for  our  own  legs,  five  as  sumpters,  and  three 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  guide  and  muleteers. 
Thus  equipped,  with  provisions  for  three  days,  and 
with  greatcoats  and  blankets  sufiicient  to  protect  us  in 
a  region  of  ice,  we  started  a  little  before  midday  for  the 
top  of  Etna.  We  were  determined  to  see  the  next 
sun  rise  from  the  summit  of  that  mount. 

Om'  road  lay,  for  fifteen  miles,  among  the  rugged 
reefs  of  lava  disgorged  in  the  last  irruption.  Every 
thing  around  had  the  appearance  of  a  vast  lake,  tum- 
bled in  a  storm,  and  suddenly  changed  to  solid  black- 
ness. The  sides  of  the  mountain,  as  we  approached 
it,  presented  features  of  a  still  bolder  fierceness.  The 
huge  rock,  the  toppling  crag,  the  protruding  blufi", 
stood  forth  in  frightful  wildness  from  the  channels 
and  chasms  which  past  torrents  of  fire  had  left  be- 
hind. The  summit,  with  its  cloud  of  smoke  and 
shaking  cone,  crowned  the  whole  with  a  dark  befit- 
ting terror. 


240  SHir   AND   SHORE. 


At  sunset,  having  reached  the  verge  of  the  woody 
zone,  we  alighted  for  rest  and  refreshment.  We  here 
changed  our  summer  apparel  for  that  of  winter ;  the 
greatcoats  which  had  been  put  on  our  sumpters  bj 
our  trusty  guide,  and  which  we  should  wholly  have 
neglected,  were  now  in  eager  requisition.  Thus  pro- 
tected, and  with  spirits  and  strength  renovated  by 
the  repast,  we  mounted  again  and  renewed  the  ascent. 
Daylight  had  gone,  but  the  sky  was  clear,  and  the 
light  of  the  stars  was  sufficient  for  our  practised  guide. 
Our  mules  were  sure-footed,  and  we  had  only  to  re- 
linquish ourselves  to  their  superior  sagacity. 

At  a  little  before  midnight,  while  approaching  the 
foot  of  the  great  cone,  where  we  were  to  part  with 
our  faithful  animals,  and  where  indeed  we  were  to 
wait  for  the  break  of  day,  things  began  to  wear  a 
fearful  change.  Frequent  clouds  swept  past  us  ;  but 
there  was  one  at  some  distance  which  seemed  more 
stationary — gathering  in  bulk  and  blackness.  Our 
guide  anxiously  watched  it,  as  it  collected  its  strength 
and  threw  out  its  snagged  iiukes,  and  quickly  leading 
the  way  up  a  steep  ledge,  called  vehemently  upon  us 
to  follow.  We  had  only  gained  the  ridge  when  the 
tempest  came. 

It  appeared  to  me  to  be  the  last  position  one  should 
seek  under  the  tornado  which  now  swept  us,  for  we 
were  obliged  instantly  to  dismount  and  hold  on  to  the 
sharp  points  of  the  rock.  Our  mules  placed  them- 
selves instinctively  in  a  posture  presenting  the  least 


ASCENT  OF  THE  MOUNT.  241 

resistance  to  the  rushing  element.  It  was  soon  ap- 
parent why  our  guide  had  taken  refuge  on  this  un- 
sheltered steep ;  for,  as  the  cloud  struck  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  its  enfolded  lake  descended  in  deluge 
and  thunder.  Rocks  and  large  masses  of  ice,  dis- 
engaged by  its  ^dolence,  rolled  down  on  each  side  of 
us,  and  over  the  very  track  on  which  we  were  moving 
but  a  few  moments  before.  Though  separated  from 
each  other  but  a  few  feet,  yet  no  one  could  make  him- 
self heard ;  the  torrents  around  and  the  thimder  above 
overpowered  even  the  loudly  vociferated  admonitions 
of  our  guide. 

There  was  at  one  moment  a  darkness  that  might 
be  felt ;  and  then  at  another  the  lightning,  flashing 
down  through  the  rifts  of  the  cloud,  would  make  the 
slightest  pebble  visible  in  its  searching  light.  An 
hour  of  these  dread  alternations,  while  torrents  and 
rocks  were  rolling  on  each  side  of  us,  and  the  storm 
went  past.  We  were  drenched  to  the  skin,  while  our 
outer  garments  began  to  be  stiff  with  ice,  yet,  with  a 
shivering  accent,  we  could  speak  to  each  other  once 
more.  It  was  the  language  of  one  spirit  rallying  and 
animating  another.  Capt.  Eead,  with  characteristic 
energy,  was  the  first  to  mount. 

Nil  actum  reputans,  si  quid  superesset  agendum. 

The  reader,  without  undergoing  our  fatigue,  or 
being  wearied  with  a  detail  of  incidents,  will  now 
conceive  us  about  two  thousand  feet  above  the  point 

11 


242  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


where  we  had  encountered  the  storm — in  a  substan- 
tial shelter  at  the  foot  of  the  great  cone — around  a 
grate  of  coal,  which  we  had  brought  with  us  from 
Catania — warming  our  fingers — snapping  the  ice  out 
of  our  coats — toasting  Etna  in  a  bumper  of  its  own 
wine — and  watching  for  the  break  of  day. 

That  horn-  comes  :  and  now  let  him  take  his  stand 
with  us  on  the  highest  point  of  the  cone,  ten  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  imagine  the  whole 
island  of  Sicily,  with  its  peaks  and  glens,  its  torrents 
and  valleys,  its  towns  and  forests,  with  the  broken  line 
of  its  bold  shores  stretched  beneath  in  one  vast  pano- 
ramic view — the  sun,  wheeling  up  out  of  the  distant 
sea — the  heavens  flushed  w^ith  its  splendor — the 
mountain  pinnacles  burning  in  its  beam — the  great 
cone  shaking  with  the  throes  of  the  unresting  ele- 
ment within — the  crater  sending  up  its  volumes  of 
steep  cloud — and  the  central  lake  of  fire  flashing  up 
through  the  darkness,  like  terrific  glimpses  of  the 
bottomless  abyss !  But  the  reality  overpowers  all 
description  !  I  drop  my  pen,  and  half  accuse  myself 
of  rashness  in  having  made  even  this  brief  attempt. 

We  efifected  the  descent  without  any  serious  injury, 
though  I  had  myself  rather  a  narrow  escape.  My 
mule  made  a  misstep — the  only  fault  of  the  kind  he 
had  committed  dming  the  excursion.  I  fell  over  his 
head,  and  turned  many  somersets  :  on  looking  back, 
I  saw  my  mule  standing  on  the  verge  of  the  slope, 
and  disregarding  every   thing  else,  directing   his 


RETURN   TO   CATANIA.  243 

anxious  look  to  me.  There  was  sorrow  and  self- 
accusation  in  that  look — I  forgave  him.  Beckoning 
to  him,  he  came  dowm,  snufied  about  my  mangled 
hat,  and  when  1  lemounted,  pricked  up  his  ears,  and 
started  on  with  the  most  assured  tread.  From  that 
time  I  have  never  seen  this  animal  receive  a  stroke 
of  the  lash,  without  a  feeling  of  disquietude. 

We  reached  Catania  at  sunset,  in  fine  spirits,  and 
not  the  least  so,  Mrs.  E.,  who  had  sustained  all  the 
perils  and  hardships  of  the  expedition  with  wonderful 
courage  and  energj^  That  night  we  slept  soundly, 
as  well  we  might,  for  we  had  been  up  two  nights 
without  any  sleep,  except  the  nap  in  the  corn-field, 
and  that  would  have  been  less  long  had  there  been 
any  powder  in  the  barrel  of  my  blunderbuss ;  for  I 
have  a  wonderful  tact  at  getting  any  thing  off  that  is 
loaded.  My  first  exploits  in  gunnery  were  with  the 
pop-gun — the  dear  little  thing ! 

I  do  advise  those  who  propose  to  fight 

A  duel,  when  they  feel  their  honor  pricked, 

To  use  this  pop-gun — 'tis  so  very  light, 

And  what  is  more,  so  safe  :  none  ever  kicked, 

Or  burst,  unless  it  had  too  thin  a  shell. 

And  then  the  little  thing  does  just  as  well. 

The  Etna  fever,  which  hurried  us  blindly  past  all 
other  objects  on  our  way  to  the  mount,  having  sub- 
sided, Ve  determined  to  defer  our  return  to  the  ship, 
and  glance  at  some  of  the  features  of  Catania.  This 
is  a  beautiful  city,  though  built  upon  one  vast  field  of 


24-i  smp  Am)  shoee. 


lava,  with  the  dead  beneath,  a  Tolcano  above,  and 
the  frightful  monuments  of  the  earthquake  around. 
[  know  not  why  it  is,  but  somehow  in  this  strange 
world  beauty,  danger,  and  death  are  always  in  the 
same  group.  The  sweetest  violet  I  ever  saw,  bloomed 
among  wreaths  of  snow  on  a  sister's  grave. 

The  amphitheatre,  where  the  ancient  Catanians 
held  their  sports,  and  where  they  may  have  been 
suddenly  engulfed  in  a  flood  of  fire,  stands  seventy 
feet  beneath  the  gay  promenade  of  the  present 
town.  This  gigantic  sti'ucture  is  built  itself  of  lava, 
and  for  aught  we  can  tell,  may  have  been  reared  over 
playhouses,  entombed  in  some  eruption  of  a  still 
earlier  date.  Thus  it  ever  is  in  this  world  ;  on  land, 
the  votary  of  pleasure  indulges  his  mirth  over  the 
bones  of  a  perished  race  ;  and  on  the  ocean,  the  mar- 
iner lightly  hums  his  song  on  a  wave,  through  which 
have  sunk  thousands  to  reappear  no  more.  We  pre- 
sent to  heaven  a  picture  of  life  and  death,  mirth  and 
madness,  over  which  angels  might  wonder  and  weep  ! 

Xatm'e  often  atones  for  the  fierceness  of  present 
calamities  in  the  beauty  of  remote  results.  The 
ashes  that  fall  in  the  burning  breath  of  the  volcano, 
nourish  plants  which  are  to  bloom  above  those  they 
have  buried ;  and  the  forest,  which  now  encircles 
Catania,  waves  more  luxuriantly  than  the  one  char- 
red beneath.  The  vegetable  life  and  bloom  which 
followed  the  subsiding  waters  of  the  great  deluge, 
were  not  less  fresh  and  fair,  than  what  had  been 


MUSEUM   OF   BISCARI.  245 


swept  away.  But  man  covers  tlie  world  with  his 
slain — ^leavino'  their  flesh  to  the  vulture,  their  bones 
to  the  accents  of  the  last  triimp,  and  his  own  guilt  to 
the  disposal  of  a  final  Judge ! 

We  \asited,  while  at  Catania,  the  museum  of  the 
Prince  of  Biscari — the  largest  and  most  richly  stored 
private  cabinet  in  the  world.  I  pass  by  the  statues 
of  the  ancient  deities,  for  time  and  disaster  have  been 
as  fatal  to  their  forms,  as  inspiration  has  to  their  wor- 
ship. I  pass  by  the  collection  of  shells,  for  none,  in 
all  their  vast  variety,  has  the  tone  and  rainbow  beauty 
of  the  one  through  which  the  mermaid  breathed  my 
dying  dirge.  I  pass  by  the  vases  which  held  the 
wines,  and  the  lamps  which  lighted  the  festivities  of 
the  ancients ;  for  who  would  gaze  on  the  nail  of  the 
coffin  in  which  youth  and  affection  have  sunk  fi'om 
light  and  life?  I  pass  by  the  countless  minerals  and 
gems — they  shed  no  rays  of  such  living  light  as  those 
which  beam  fi-om  the  eye  of  the  bright  gazelle.  I 
pass  by  the  million  of  embalmed  insects — others 
swarm  the  field  and  forest,  happy  in  the  life  which 
these  have  lost.  I  pass  by — no,  I  will  not — the  ex- 
pressive statue  of  Cleopatra.  The  heart  throbs  be- 
neath its  beauty — the  eye  swims  when  lifted  to  that 
last  look  of  suicidal  despair. 

Leaving  the  museum,  we  encountered  an  humble 
Franciscan  in  his  simple  attire — his  imcovered  head 
and  sandals.  _  He  presented  us  with  some  flowers, 
and  received  in  his  thin  pale  hand  our  little  charities. 


246  SHIP   AKD   SnOEE. 


Poor  pilgrim!  what  is  this  worid  to  thee?  Thou 
hast  renounced  its  wealth,  its  pleasures,  its  restless 
spirit  of  enterprise  :  thy  home  is  not  here — is  it  in 
heaven  ?  Art  thou  indeed  going  to  that  better  land, 
where  the  strife  and  vanities  of  earth  never  come  ? 
May  the  privations  of  thy  lot  atone  for  the  mistaken 
virtues  of  thy  creed. 

If  I  determine  to  become  a  monk,  I  will  come  here 
and  join  the  Benedictines.  They  have  a  splendid 
monastery,  richly  endowed — luxuriant  gardens,  sump- 
tuous fare,  nothing  to  do — they  live  like  gentlemen. 
If  any  one  questions  the  usefulness  of  such  a  life,  I 
can  only  say,  let  him  attend  to  his  o"v^ii  business. 
What  concern  is  it  of  his,  if,  like  a  silkworm,  I  wind 
myself  up  in  my  own  web  ?  Let  him  not  attempt  to 
wind  my  house  on  to  his  bobbin. 

Cicisbeism  prevails  among  the  higher  classes  in 
Catania.  It  passes  as  a  pure  platonic  affection — in- 
fringing no  marriage  obligation,  no  law  of  morality, 
no  rule  of  rigid  propriety — merely  a  chaste  friendshij), 
innocent  as  a  new-born  babe.  It  does,  to  be  sure, 
encourage  a  peculiar  intimacy,  and  may  perhaps  di- 
versify the  features  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
family  ;  but  what  of  that  ?  'No  sentiment  of  delicacy 
has  been  publicly  shocked,  and  no  one  dies  before 
his  time  comes  :  let  the  exquisite  arrangement  alone. 
Never  was  there  a  charmer  of  the  bird  with  so  beau- 
tiful a  skin,  so  bright  an  eye,  and  so  venomous  a  fang ! 
It  is  the  devil  himself  disguised  as  an  angel  of  light ! 


KETITKN   TO   MESSINA.  247 

Leaving  Catania — the  excellent  hotel  of  the  atten- 
live  Abatti — and  travelling  the  remaining  half  of  the 
day  and  the  succeeding  night,  we  arrived  at  Messina 
at  the  break  of  dawn.  The  leaves  were  wet  with 
the  dew,  and  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  were  among 
them,  while  yet  the  day-star  could  be  seen  over  the 
hills. 

Lone  star  that  lingerest  still  on  yon  steep  height, 
Dost  not  perceive  that  thou  art  wondrous  pale  ? 

Why  keep  untiring  watch  in  deep  daylight  ? 
Come,  spread  thy  pinions  on  the  morning  gale, 

And  haste  away — thy  sisters  all  are  gone — 

Earth  will  not  hear  thee  singing  there  alone. 

Sweet  star,  though  morn  hath  blanched  thy  cheek  and  brow. 

Thy  glancing  eye  is  full  of  tearful  mirth ; 
With  thee  my  softened  heart  would  meekly  bow, 

And  own  the  Power  that  ruled  thy  heavenly  birth — 
But,  hark ! — thy  sisters  call  again  to  thee : 
Haste,  haste  away,  and  meet  me  on  the  sea. 

Weighing  anchor  from  Messina,  we  passed,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  strait,  the  small  village  of  Reg- 
gio,  which  would  have  hardly  arrested  om*  attention 
but  for  its  beino;  the  last  retreat  of  the  unfortunate 
Murat.  There  is  over  the  whole  career  of  this  splen- 
did officer  a  warmth  of  generosity,  a  depth  of  en- 
thusiasm and  romance,  which  should  have  secured 
him  from  the  inhuman  and  unmerited  death  which 
his  miserable  foes  decreed.  His  last  look,  as  he  sunk 
alone,  unarmed  and  unbefriended,  beneath  the  mortal 


248  SHIP   AND   SnOEE. 


aim  of  his  executioners — and  the  last  words  of  his 
brave  companion  in  arms,  the  gallant  ^N'ey,  as  he 
kneeled  down  to  die — may  perhaps  have  been  re- 
garded by  some  with  exultation  ;  but  a  man  of  the 
slightest  magnanimity  would  have  turned  away  with 
indignant  shame  and  regret. 

The  errors  of  such  men  meet  with  an  adequate  ret- 
ribution when  the  reverses  of  the  field  divest  them 
of  their  splendor  and  power ;  and  let  Us  not  insult 
their  misfortunes  and  human  natm'e,  by  sending  them 
to  the  hands  of  the  common  executioner,  or  chaining 
them,  like  their  captive  chief,  to  a  desolate  rock  in 
the  ocean. 

But  I  have  wandered  unintentionally  to  St.  Helena, 
and  must  come  back  to  take  a  parting  look  at  the 
strait.  A  current  sets  here  alternately  north  and 
south,  at  the  rate  of  three  or  four  knots  an  hour.  It 
is  strictly  a  tide,  influenced  by  the  moon,  with  a 
strong  ebb  and  flow,  though  the  rise  and  fall  are  not 
great.  When  the  current  sets  in  from  the  north,  it 
first  encounters  the  point  of  Pelorus,  which  stiU  per- 
petuates the  name  of  Hannibal's  pilot ;  it  is  here 
headed  ofi*,  and  sets  towards  Scylla,  where  it  is 
again  deflected  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  drives 
towards  the  isthmus,  which  protects  the  harbor  of 
Messina. 

On  its  return,  it  pursues  essentially  the  same 
track,  but  rarely  in  either  direction  seriously  annoys 
a  ship,  unless  there  be  a  calm,  a  strong  head-wind,  or 


ISLE  OF  CAimiA.  249 


one  of  those  traversing  gusts  wliicli  frequently  issue 
ffom  the  gorges  of  the  mountains.  But,  like  the  re- 
nowned Argonauts,  we  have  escaped  the  disasters  of 
the  pass ;  so  adieu  to  its  counter  currents,  whu'lpools, 
and  rocks.  They  have  ever  had  more  poetry  in  them 
than  peril. 

Our  next  sight  of  land  rested  on  the  island  of 
Candia.  Mount  Ida,  which  claims  the  proud  pre- 
eminence of  being  the  birth-place  of  Jupiter,  stri- 
kingly sustains  its  pretensions  in  its  own  lofty  and 
solitary  grandeur.  It  is  a  place  befitting  the  infancy 
of  one  destined  to  reign  over  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
this  poor  world.  It  would  seem  that  the  infant 
Thunderer  began  to  exercise  his  frightful  functions 
even  before  leaving  the  place  of  his  nativity ;  for  Ida 
has  all  the  blight  and  barrenness  which  the  fiercest 
lightning  leaves  behind. 

The  presiding  divinity  must  also,  in  some  measure, 
have  molded  the  character  of  the  inhabitants ;  for 
they  have  ever  been  distinguished  for  valor  and  vice, 
skill  and  falsehood.  They  exhibited  their  courage 
and  resolution  in  their  resistance  to  the  Romans,  and 
in  the  memorable  siege  of  their  principal  city  by  the 
Ottoman  power  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Their 
vices,  aside  from  the  passages  of  Strabo,  live  in  many 
a  lewd  tale,  and  their  piratical  audacity  still  thrills 
through  the  story  of  the  mariner.  Tlieir  skill  in 
archery  aided  Xenophon  in  his  celebrated  retreat, 
and  assisted  Alexander  the  Great  in  his  conquests. 

IP 


250  SHIP   AND   SHORE, 


Their  proneness  to  falsehood  passed  into  a  proverb, 
and  even  shocked  the  satirical  muse  of  Ovid : 

Ifon  hoc  centum  quae  sustinet  urbes, 

Quamvis  sit  mendax,  Greta  negare  potest. 

Tlie  next  island  that  we  made  was  Cerigo — the 
ancient  Cithera,  and  favorite  isle  of  Yenns.  ITear  its 
sweet  shore  this  goddess  rose  from  the  wave  in  the 
full  perfection  of  her  soft  entrancing  beauty.  Her 
being,  no  less  than  her  birth,  betrayed  her  celestial 
origin,  "With  a  form  molded  in  all  its  developments 
to  the  most  rich  and  exquisite  symmetry — a  counte- 
nance lighted  up  with  the  earnestness  of  serene  and 
passionate  thought — a  soul  breathing  through  her 
very  frame  the  warmth  and  kindling  fondness  of 
love — with  a  step  that  could  dispense  with  the  earth, 
and  a  look  that  could  make  a  heaven, — ^it  is  no  won- 
der that  she  filled  and  fascinated  the  human  heart; 
and  that  the  prince  and  the  poet,  the  warrior  and  the 
Bage,  laid  their  richest  offerings  upon  her  shi-ine. 

But  her  worship  is  now  passed — her  temples  are 
tottering  in  ruins — her  altars  are  forsaken— her  foun- 
tains unvisited — and  even  this  sweet  isle  where  she 
once  dwelt,  has  only  the  murmuring  wave  to  mourn 
over  the  dream  of  her  perished  beauty.  Some  glimpses 
of  her  loveliness  may  linger  still  in  the  triumphs  of 
the  chisel  and  pencil,  but  her  soul  of  surpassing  sweet- 
ness and  j)0wer  is  not  there ;  and  the  spell  of  her 
charms  will  never  return,  while  the  spirit  of  a  holier 


ISLE  OF  MILO.  251 


revelation  continues  to  chasten  do^vn  the  voluptuous 
imagination  of  man. 

Passing  Cithera,  we  held  our  course  for  Milo,  and 
soon  came  to  anchor  in  its  well-sheltered  harbor. 
The  first  sentiment  that  occurred  to  me,  in  looking  at 
the  form  and  aspect  of  this  island,  turned  to  the  in- 
justice which  has  been  done  to  it,  in  the  purposes 
which  it  has  been  compelled  to  subserve.  It  ap- 
peared as  if,  from  some  motive  of  curiosity,  it  had 
merely  looked  up  out  of  the  wave,  to  see  what  was 
going  on  in  this  strange  world — had  been  caught  in 
that  situation  and  detained,  as  an  adventurous  travel- 
ler peeping  into  an  Arab  encampment,  is  sometimes 
held  there  in  lawless  bondage. 

Yet  there  is  no  cast  of  grief  or  violence  upon  it ; 
indeed,  it  seems  as  cheerful  as  if  it  never  had  endured 
a  compulsory  servitude ;  though,  so  far  from  having 
escaped  the  ignoble  task  of  contri?yUting  to  the  main- 
tenance of  man,  it  has  at  one  time  sustained  a  popu- 
lation of  twenty  thousand  upon  its  own  resources. 
It  was  first  made  a  captive  by  a  Lacedaemonian  colo- 
ny, and  like  a  true  knight,  enabled  them,  for  seven 
hundred  years  previous  to  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
to  preserve  their  independence. 

With  more  gallantry  than  selfish  wisdom,  it  refused 
in  that  long  struggle  to  aid  the  designs  of  the  Atheni- 
ans, who  revenged  this  neutrality  by  visiting  it  with 
the  heaviest  desolation  in  their  power.  This  wicked 
act  has  been  sketched  by  Thucydides  in  one  of  his 


952  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


terse  sentences.  The  men,  it  appears,  who  were  able 
to  bear  arms  were  put  to  death — the  women  and  chil- 
dren earned  off  into  exile. 

In  the  recent  struggle  between  the  Greek  and  Turk, 
this  little  isle  saved  itself  from  Moslem  vengeance  by 
its  peaceful  demeanor,  and  better  served  the  interests 
of  humanity  in  thus  becoming  a  partial  asylum,  where 
the  oppressed  and  despairing  might  recover  strength 
and  resolution.  It  is  now  what  it  was  in  earlier  times 
— a  sort  of  resting-place  for  the  mariner.  In  weari- 
ness and  storm,  he  has  only  to  drop  around  into  this 
quiet  harbor,  and  then  he  may  tune  his  reed,  or 
traverse  his  deck,  and  let  the  tempest  without  rave, 
till  it  frets  itself  to  rest. 

But  our  object  here  was  not  to  shelter  ourselves 
from  a  gale,  but  to  procure  the  aid  of  those  whose 
knowledge  of  the  intricate  passes  of  this  sea  might 
perhaps  save  us  from  that  last  disaster  which  some- 
times befalls  a  ship.  The  skill  of  the  pilot  here  is 
very  much  confined  to  occasions  when  there  is  the 
least  necessity  for  it.  It  is  to  be  relied  on  when  perils 
are  distinctly  visible ;  but  when  storm,  and  wave,  and 
night  mingle  in  conflict,  the  Greek  pilot  has  no  re- 
source but  to  faU  on  his  knees  and  supplicate  the 
assistance  of  the  blessed  Yirgin. 

Could  that  sweet  saint  send  out  the  light  of  those 
stars  which  once  lighted  her  solitary  path  in  Judea, 
it  would  be  eminently  wise  to  invoke  her  aid.  Far 
be  it  from  me,  however,  to  quench  the  hope  and  trust 


GROTTO   OF  MtLO.  253 


which  even  a  dekisive  confidence  may  awaken.  Yet 
in  a  storm,  I  would  sooner  trust  to  a  strong  cable,  or 
a  good  offing  with  a  close  reef,  than  to  any  miracu- 
lous preservation  within  the  power  of  the  compassion- 
ate Madonna.  But  enough  of  these  heterodox  senti- 
ments. 

Mounting  some  little  stunted  ponies,  which  were 
but  a  trifle  larger  than  goats,  we  went  in  quest  of 
some  of  the  natural  curiosities  of  the  island.  A  short 
ride  brought  us  to  the  tepid  springs,  which  rise  quite 
up  the  harbor  near  the  water's  edge.  These  springs 
are  strongly  impregnated  with  sulphur,  and  are  much 
frequented  by  those  afliicted  with  scrofulous  diseases, 
— maladies  which  are  often  met  with  here,  and  which 
are  ascribed  to  a  noxious  property  in  the  honey  with 
which  the  Cyclades  abound.  There  is  no  sweet  with- 
out its  bitter — ^no  rose  without  its  thorn.  But  nature 
sometimes,  as  in  the  present  case,  furnishes  an  anti- 
dote for  the  ills  which  she  brings.  "Would  that  man 
could  do  the  same ;  but  his  wi'ongs  strike  so  deeply, 
that  a  reparation  is  frequently  not  within  his  power. 
A  broken  heart  can  never  be  revived  and  restored  ; 
it  may  perchance  smile  again,  but  its  smiles  will  be 
like  flowers  on  a  sepulchre. 

From  the  springs  we  rode  to  a  singular  cave  near 
the  entrance  of  the  harbor.  After  winding  down  a 
narrow  and  difiicult  passage,  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
large  hall,  beautifully  vaulted  with  crystallized  sul- 
phur.   This  mineral,  in  the  hands  of  man,  has  a  bad 


254  SHIP   AND   SnORE. 


name,  and  a  worse  association ;  but  left  to  nature,  she 
converts  it  into  brilliant  gems,  with  which  she  studs 
the  glowing  domes  of  her  caverned  palaces. 

Here  was  one  of  her  halls  in  which  even  an  Egeria 
might  have  dwelt,  and  sighed  for  nothing  earthly, 
unless  it  were  the  footsteps  of  her  mortal  lover.  And 
perhaps  it  was  in  other  times  the  abode  of  some  sweet 
romantic  being,  whose  devoted  love  flew  the  crowd, 
to  cherish  in  solitude  and  silence  its  fondness  and 
trust.  For  there  is  something  in  the  spirit  of  this 
mysterious  passion  which  takes  the  heart  away  from 
the  empty  bustle  and  prattle  of  the  multitude.  It  is 
this  which  sanctifies  the  private  hearth,  and  garlands 
the  domestic  altar  with  flowers  that  can  never  die. 
One  that  looks  away  from  the  companion  of  his 
bosom  for  solace  and  delight,  has  mistaken  the  path 
to  true  happiness  and  virtue. 

But  I  am  again  on  a  theme  that  has  little  to  do 
with  the  present  fountains  and  grottoes  of  Milo.  We 
were  struck,  on  riding  over  the  island,  with  the  num- 
ber and  variety  of  its  caverns,  and  with  the  beautiful 
results  of  the  chemical  operations  which  are  con- 
stantly going  on  in  these  natural  laboratories.  These 
singular  results  are  produced  from  rich  mineral  sub- 
stances, abounding  in  the  hollow  hills,  dissolved  and 
sublimated  by  the  agency  of  a  volcanic  flame,  which 
appears  to  live  in  the  heart  of  the  island. 

Let  this  isle  alone — it  needs  no  forge,  retort,  blow- 
pipe or  galvanic  battery,  to  aid  its  chemical  experi- 


ANCIENT  TOMBS.  255 


ments.  To  its  lectures  Pliny  listened,  and  thousands 
since  have  wisely  imitated  the  docility  of  his  example. 
We  observed  in  our  rambles  the  constant  occurrence 
of  excavations,  which  were  once  immense  reser- 
voirs for  the  reception  of  rain-water, — there  being  no 
fresh  springs  in  the  island,  and  which,  though  now 
neglected  and  partially  filled  by  falling  fragments, 
attest  the  former  denseness  of  the  population. 

"We  spent  some  time  among  the  Catacombs,  the 
most  perfect  of  which  are  just  being  opened,  and 
may  be  found  near  the  site  of  the  ancient  capital. 
These  chambers  of  the  dead  are  cut  in  the  soft  rock, 
being  eight  or  ten  feet  square  and  as  many  in  height, 
with  narrow  cells  opening  around  them,  in  which  the 
bodies  were  deposited.  In  the  cells  are  discovered 
the  jewels  and  ornaments  of  the  deceased,  and  in  the 
chambers  lachrjmiatory  vases,  in  which  the  bereaved 
preserved  their  tears,  as  sacred  to  the  memory  of  the 
departed.  Among  the  ornaments  a  massive  ring  was 
recently  discovered,  which  w^as  purchased  here  for 
fifty  pounds,  and  subsequently  sold  for  five  hundred. 

The  vases  are  some  of  them  of  glass,  brilliantly 
colored  in  the  material ;  others  of  an  argillaceous 
substance,  pencilled  with  a  delicate  and  unfading 
force.  They  are  now  searched  for  and  sold  by  the 
natives  to  the  antiquary,  or  to  any  one  who  may  feel 
or  affect  an  interest  in  the  arts  and  habits  of  the 
ancients. 

How  every  thing  in  this  world  tends  to  ruin  and 


256  SHIP   AND  SnOEE. 


forgetfulness  !  We  are  not  only  to  die — to  be  placed 
in  the  earth — but  the  violets  are  to  be  plucked  from 
our  graves — these  narrow  mounds  perhaps  to  be 
levelled  down  to  gratify  the  pride  of  a  village,  and 
furnish  a  promenade  for  the  gay — and  then,  as  if  this 
were  not  enough,  should  the  place  of  our  burial  in 
after  ages  become  known,  our  ashes  may  be  disturbed, 
and  though  the  tearless  grief  of  our  friends  may  save 
the  search  after  lachrymatories,  yet  our  very  dust 
may  be  sifted  in  search  of  a  gainful  trinket.  What 
has  been  will  be ;  for  "  there  is  nothing  new  under 
the  sun."  Then  let  me  be  spared  all  mockery  of 
grief,  all  eulogies  written  and  forgotten  by  the  same 
individual — ^let  my  resting-place  be  unknown. 

When  ye  shall  lay  me  in  the  shroud, 

And  look  your  last  adieu, 
Ye  shall  not  tell  it  to  the  crowd, 

Nor  to  the  friendly  few; 
And  when  ye  place  me  on  the  bier. 

Ye  shall  not  wail  a  word, 
Nor  let  your  eyes  confess  a  tear. 

Or  e'en  a  sigh  be  heard. 

Much  less  shall  there  be  funeral  knell, 

Or  roll  of  muffled  drum, 
Or,  when  ye  leave  where  I  must  dwell, 

The  peal  of  parting  gun. 
Bear  me  away  at  dead  of  night. 

And  let  your  footsteps  fall 
As  soft  and  silently,  as  light 

The  moonbeams  on  the  pall — 


DISTURBING   THE   DEAD.  257 

Till  ye  shall  reach  some  desert  shore, 

Or  some  secluded  glen, 
Where  man  hath  never  been  before, 

And  ye  will  not  again ; 
Inter  me  there,  without  a  stone 

Or  mound  to  mark  the  spot, — 
A  grave  to  all  but  ye  unknown. 

And  then  by  ye  forgot. 


258  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

The  early  lark  from  out  the  thicket  springing, 
NoTv  like  an  angel  lures  me  to  the  skies  ; 

The  waking  warblers  from  the  hill-top  singing, 
Hail  the  sweet  morn — notes  various  as  their  dyes. 

TOWN    OF   MILO — STEEPNESS    OF   THE  STREETS ADVICE    TO    DISTILLERS — 

STATUE  OF  VENUS VIEW   FROM    THE    TOWN GREEK    WEDDING DRESS 

AND  PERSON  OF  THE  BRIDE — FICKLENESS  OF  FASHIONS  IN  DRESS — ANEC- 
DOTE OF  FRANKLIN PASSAGE  FROM  MILO  TO  SMYRNA CAPE  COLONNA 

TEMPLE  OF    MINERVA PROFESSION    OF    PIRATES — ISLAND    OF    IPSARA 

ASPECT    OF    SCIO — MASSACRE    OF    THE    INHABITANTS CONDUCT    OF    THE 

ALLIES GULF      OF      SMYRNA — ANCIENT    CLAZOMENjE — TRAITS    OF    THE 

SAILOR. 

We  left  the  sliip  this  morning  for  the  purpose  of 
visiting  the  town  of  Milo,  which  is  built  around  the 
conical  summit  of  a  mountain,  and  sufficiently  ele- 
vated to  look  down  on  Mahomet's  coffin,  high  as  it 
floats  even  in  the  fanatical  dream  of  a  Mussulman. 
This  giddy  position  was  chosen  as  a  refuge  or  protec- 
tion from  pirates  ;  but  the  corsair  has  reached  it — • 
not  in  search  of  a  Medora  (I  could  almost  excuse  him 
for  that),  but  in  quest  of  a  treasure  far  less  lovely, 
though  of  deeper  fascination  to  a  sordid  heart. 

On  our  ascent,  we  turned  aside  to  the  remains  of  a 
theatre,  which  has  been  discovered  within  a  few  years 
past.  The  rubbish  and  earth  with  which  it  was  cov- 
ered have  been  partially  removed ;  and  the  relic  pre- 


STATUE   OF  VENtrS.  259 

sents  an  entireness  of  preservation  rarelj  to  be  met 
with  even  where,  as  in  the  present  case,  the  material 
has  the  durability  which  belongs  to  marble.  The 
theatre,  soon  after  its  discovery,  was  purchased  by 
Baron  Haller,  under  whose  direction  the  excavations 
were  vigorously  prosecuted,  until  a  treacherous  wave, 
as  he  was  crossing  the  harbor,  terminated  his  career, 
and  deprived  the  world  of  the  fruits  of  his  enterprise. 
The  object  of  his  munificent  curiosity  remains ;  and 
the  rent  cornice  and  coknnn  will  long  be  surveyed  by 
the  stranger,  as  the  touching  emblems  of  his  broken 
hopes  and  purposes. 

On  returaing  to  our  path,  we  passed  the  spot  where 
the  celebrated  statue,  the  Yenus  of  Milo,  was  discov- 
ered. It  has  since  been  purchased  by  the  French 
government,  and  is  now  exhibited  in  the  Louvre, 
where  doubtless  many  a  Parisian  belle  is  studying 
its  air  and  attitude,  and  endeavoring  to  mould  her 
yielding  form  after  its  perfect  symmetry.  But  cor- 
sets and  studied  positions  will  never  make  a 
Yenus. 

This  peerless  prototjqDe  looked  and  moved  just  as 
she  came  from  the  soft  hand  of  nature ;  and  those 
who  would  approach  her,  in  the  power  of  their 
charms,  must  listen  to  an  oracle  that  talks  not  of  airs 
and  stays.  "Were  Praxitiles  to  come  from  his  rest- 
ing-place, and  a  modern  beauty  to  present  herself 
before  him,  to  stand  for  her  statue,  in  all  the  narrow- 
ing and  disorganizing  appendages  which  fashion  now 


260  SHIP   Am)   SHORE. 


sanctions,  the  astounded  artist  would  drop  his  chisel 
and  hasten  fast  as  j)ossible  back  to  his  grave ! 

But  enough  of  this  censorial  criticism  on  the  false 
taste  of  the  ladies.  They  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  re- 
gard my  strictures  as  extremely  querulous  and  im- 
pudent ;  but  I  can  assure  them  I  am  one  of  the  most 
modest  and  peaceable  men  in  the  world,  and  little 
disposed  to  give  offence  in  that  quarter,  where  I  may 
perhaps  one  day  be  seeking  the  happiness  which 
heaven  has  righteously  denied  to  the  cynanthropy 
and  selfishness  of  the  single  state.  I  trust  that  this 
confession,  if  it  fail  to  secure  me  their  favor,  will  at 
least  obtain  me  their  forgiving  tolerance;  and  I 
will  engage  not  to  oflend  again,  though  nature  pants 
and  dies  under  the  constricting  tortm-es  of  the  cord 
and  steel. 

We  recovered  the  path  to  Milo,  from  which  we 
had  diverged,  by  beating  our  way  through  several 
small  plats  of  ground,  surrounded  with  hedges  of  the 
aloe,  whose  lance-like  thorns  wound  a  man's  flesh  as 
much  as  scandal  does  his  character.  Our  way  now 
lay  up  in  a  rambling  zig-zag  line,  rendered  necessary 
not  only  by  the  steepness  of  the  actual  ascent,  but 
the  frequent  occurrence  of  the  insurmountable  bluff 
and  projecting  crag. 

It  aj)peared  to  me,  while  twisting  my  sight  and 
strength  through  the  exhausting  tortuosities  of  this 
path,  that  Satan  would  have  never  found  his  way 
from  Tartarus  to  Paradise,  on  a  road  as  crooked  and 


ADVICE  TO   BISTILLEES.  201 


laborious  as  tliat  wliicli  we  were  threading.  But 
here,  I  hope,  will  end  all  supposed  parallel  between 
the  situation,  climbing  fimctions,  and  errand  of  his 
Satanic  majesty  and  myself.  I  was  bound  to  Milo — 
he  was  in  search  of  Eden ;  I  went  to  bless  a  new- 
married  couple,  as  will  presently  appear — he  to  make 
miserable  the  only  wedded  pair  on  earth  ;  I  was  on, 
to  say  the  worst  of  it,  a  fool's  errand — his  was  that 
of  a  fiend.  But  to  close  this  contrast,  so  severe  upon 
Milton's  hero,  without  perhaps  being  honorable  to 
myself,  we  at  last  reached  the  town. 

We  found  all  its  streets  extremely  narrow,  for  the 
want  of  room  to  make  them  wider,  and  decently 
clean,  from  their  precipitancy ;  for  the  contents  of  a 
dish-kettle  or  wash-bowl  would  hardly  stop  till  they 
had  reached  the  harbor ;  and  as  for  a  stumbling 
drunkard,  he  would  roll  down  with  increasing  mo- 
mentum, plump  into  the  wave.  There  are,  conse- 
quently, no  "  Temperance  Societies  "  here — no  an- 
noyances from  those  who  will  not  allow  others  to 
drink,  because  they  have  ceased  to  drink  themselves. 

I  would  therefore  advise  the  distiller,  as  he  appears 
to  be  particularly  obnoxious  to  these  men  who  have 
forsaken  their  bottles,  to  come  and  work  his  worms 
here,  where  he  will  cease  to  be  annoyed,  not  only  by 
those  who  do  not  take  a  drop  at  all,  but  by  those  who 
take  a  drop  too  much.  For  instead  of  having  the 
grounds  about  his  establishment  disfigured  by  an 
unseemly  group,  one  trying  to  knock  off  another's 


2G2  SHIP   AND   SHOKE. 


nose,  another  blinking  and  sleeping  in  the  sun,  an- 
other zig-zagging  a  plain  path,  another  casting  his 
sickly  smile  on  the  stranger,  another  cocking  his  eye 
ahead,  as  if  levelling  at  a  partridge,  and  another 
looking  as  if  about  to  assume  the  functions  of  a  stool- 
pigeon — instead  of  this,  the  moment  a  fellow  has 
taken  a  glass  too  much,  and  attempts  his  first  step, 
he  tumbles,  and  rolling  downward  about  two  miles, 
conies  souse  into  the  bay. 

This  cleverly  cools  him  off,  quenches  all  the  burn- 
ing rags  on  his  back,  and  he  is  ready  to  mount  again, 
fresh  as  a  fish.  The  distiller,  therefore,  escapes  all 
annoyance  from  those  who  do  not  drink,  and  all  dis- 
gust from  those  who  do  ;  and  as  for  that  being  who 
goes  about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour,  if  there  be  any  virtue  in  friendship,  any 
merit  in  good  service,  he  has  naught  to  fear  from 
him. 

The  roofs  of  the  houses,  we  observed,  were  all  flat. 
This  may  have  been  from  a  prudential  anxiety  to 
present  the  least  possible  exposure  to  the  violent 
winds  which  occasionally  sweep  these  heights,  or  to 
lessen  the  weight,  which  only  aggravates  the  toppling 
propensities  of  the  dwelling  ;  or,  from  motives  of 
economy,  which  I  do  not  assuredly  know,  as  I  never 
made  the  inquiry.  But  whatever  may  have  been  the 
inducement,  they  afford  a  good  protection  from  all 
inclemencies  of  weather,  and  the  only  promenade  of 
which  this  cloud-capped  town  can  boast. 


TIEW   OF   THE   TOWJT.  263 


Under  the  guidance  of  an  intelligent  native,  who 
had  been  engaged  as  a  pilot  for  our  ship,  we  con- 
tinued our  climbing  till  we  reached  the  roof  of  the 
church,  which  rightly  crowns  the  summit.  The  wide 
panorama  of  wave,  and  isle,  and  mount  which  now 
spread  around  us,  would  have  rewarded  much  greater 
fatigues  than. we  had  undergone  in  the  ascent. 

Milo  itself,  with  the  soft  oval  sweep  of  its  shores, 
the  picturesque  prominency  of  its  hills,  the  green 
depth  of  its  valleys,  and  above  all,  the  slumbering 
beauty  of  the  harbor,  as  it  lay  with  the  repose  and 
brilliancy  of  an  inland  lake,  was  enough  to  chain  the 
eye  and  fill  the  heart.  But  the  charms  of  the  pros- 
pect rested  not  here — a  multitude  of  isles  like  this  lay 
within  the  circling  range  of  our  vision,  bright  as  the 
waves  in  which  their  shadows  were  enshrined,  and 
soft  as  the  skies  that  covered  them.  They  seemed  as 
if  formed  for  the  most  fond,  fraternal  alliance,  yet 
capable  each  one,  in  an  hour  of  ingratitude  or  indig- 
nity, of  leaning  upon  its  own  resources, 

I  like  this  self-relying  aspect,  both  in  nature  and 
man;  it  imparts  dignity,  respect,  and  confidence, 
without  detracting  in  the  slightest  degree  from  the 
obligations  and  advantages  of  friendship.  In  this 
selfish  and  treacherous  world,  a  person  should  never 
place  his  happiness  at  the  mercy  of  another ;  betrayal 
and  ruin  are  too  apt  to  be  the  consequence.  This 
remark,  however,  must  not  be  extended  to  that  sacred 
alliance  on  which  the  marriage  seal  has  been  set,  for 


264  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


the  greater  tlie  confidence  here,  the  less  liable  per- 
haps is  it  to  abuse ;  and  not  only  so,  but  without  this 
unreserved  confidence,  love's  lamp  would  burn  dim, 
even  before  the  first  night  had  waned  on  its  middle 
watch. 

Since  I  have  touched  on  this  delicate  theme,  my 
narrative  may  as  well  descend  at  once  under  its  light, 
from  the  roof  of  the  chm-ch  to  the  new-married  couple, 
whose  first  day  of  a  happy  date  hundreds  had  now 
come  to  witness  and  to  bless.  To  this  festival  we  had 
been  invited,  and  though  unable  to  discourse  in  mod- 
ern Greek,  yet  we  determined  to  see  with  what  pecu- 
liarities Hymen  might  still  hold  his  court  in  this  an- 
cient Melos. 

We  found  the  assembly  about  a  third  of  the  way 
down  the  declivity,  on  a  small  green,  sustained  by  a 
bold  range  of  rock,  which  served  it  as  a  natural  par- 
apet. The  aged  were  seated  under  the  fruit-trees, 
eating  sweetmeats  and  drinking  sherbet ;  the  children 
were  in  scattered  groups,  wildly  at  play ;  the  youth 
of  both  sexes  were  more  in  the  centre,  dancing  the 
Romaika.  Li  performing  the  evolutions  of  this  ori- 
ental dance,  the  parties  begin  with  a  slow  and  solemn 
movement,  and  gradually  accelerate  the  action  as  the 
music  becomes  more  lively. 

The  conductress  of  the  figures,  who  on  this  occa- 
sion was  the  bride,  led  the  company  by  easy  and 
natural  gradations  to  the  most  rapid  evolutions,  in- 
volving them  constantly  in   a  maze  of  intricacies, 


A  gkeciajn'  beide.  265 

through  which  they  followed  her,  without  once  break- 
ing the  chain  or  losing  the  measure.  The  music 
consisted  simply  of  the  Balaika,  which  accorded  with 
the  rural  and  romantic  aspect  of  the  scene.  Some- 
thing like  this,  blended  perhaps  with  still  stronger 
fascinations  of  personal  beauty,  drew  from  the  author 
of  Evenings  in  Greece  the  passionate  and  sprightly 
strain  commencing  with  the  lines — 

"  When  the  Balaika  is  heard  o'er  the  sea 
I'll  dance  the  Romaika  by  moonlight  with  thee  : 
If  waves  then  advancing,  should  steal  o'er  our  track, 
Thy  white  feet,  in  dancing,  shall  chase  them  all  back." 

The  dress  and  appearance  of  the  bride  were  pecu- 
liarly native  and  striking.  She  was  crowned  with  a 
wreath  of  white  flowers,  which  contrasted  beautifully 
with  the  jet-black  locks  of  her  hair  floating  behind  in 
glossy  ringlets ;  her  dress  was  of  white  satin,  with 
short  sleeves,  and  cut  low  in  the  neck  ;  over  this  ap- 
peared a  stomacher  of  scarlet,  richly  embroidered, 
encircling  and  sustaining  the  round  bust.  Her  dress, 
with  its  deep  and  well-adjusted  folds,  descended  only 
a  little  below  the  knee,  where  it  was  more  than  met 
by  a  white  silk  stocking,  that  betrayed  a  small  round 
ankle,  and  an  instep  that  seemed  bounding  from  the 
light  shoe.  Her  necklace  was  of  pearl ;  her  ear  orna- 
ments and  bracelets  of  cameo,  delicately  wrought  and 
Bet  in  gold. 

She  appeared  to  be  about  sixteen  years  of  age— 

12 


266  SHIP    AND   SHORE. 


witli  a  round  cbeek  of  deep  carnation — a  countenance 
of  brunette  complexion — eyes  black,  sbaded  with 
thick  silken  lashes,  and  of  sparkling  brightness — an 
upright  forehead,  though  not  high — a  neck  of  smooth 
and  graceful  cm-ve — a  stature  rather  low — a  form 
not  slight  but  symmetrical — and  a  hand  on  whose 
tapering  fingers  glittered  the  tokens  of  love  and  friend- 
ship. 

She  had  the  air  of  one  who  has  just  passed  that 
period  of  life  w^here  the  lightness  and  gayety  of  tlie 
heart  give  place  to  sympathies  of  deeper  tone,  and 
feelings  of  stronger  power.  Her  manner,  costume, 
and  person  alike  riveted  our  attention,  and  though 
she  could  not  be  said  to  reach  the  perfection  of  grace 
and  beauty,  yet  I  was  not  surprised  on  being  told 
that  the  commander  of  a  squadron  in  this  sea  had 
recently  employed  a  limner  expressly  to  sketch  her 
picture.  But  to  be  rightly  appreciated,  she  would 
require  more  than  lies  in  the  power  of  the  artist. 
There  was  something  in  the  flowing  of  the  full  soul, 
as  it  lighted  and  filled  her  countenance,  which  no 
pencil  could  express. 

The  bridegroom  was  a  good-looking  Greek,  of 
twenty-three  or  four ;  slightly  below  the  medium 
stature,  with  a  compact  muscular  frame,  and  counte- 
nance that  needed  not  the  aid  of  the  mustaches,  that 
curled  from  the  upper  lip,  to  give  it  expression.  His 
dress  was  the  flowing  Turkish  trowsers  of  white,  con- 
fined suddenly  and  closely  about  the  ankle,  and  a 


GREEK   COSTUME.  267 


coat  of  blue,  in  the  form  of  the  spencer,  deeplj  em- 
broidered in  front.  His  manner  was  manly,  frank, 
and  affable.  On  being  presented  to  him,  he  imme- 
diately introduced  us  to  his  fair  bride,  and  invited  us 
into  his  well-fm-nished  house,  which  opened  on  the 
small  green.  We  were  here  served  with  fruit,  cake, 
sherbet,  coffee,  and  the  cordiality  of  the  pipe. 

Our  conversation  was  carried  on  through  an  inter- 
preter, which  left  the  ladies,  who  composed  a  ma- 
jority of  the  circle,  quite  at  leism-e  to  ponder  the  dress 
of  Mrs.  R.,  which  they  evidently  thought  very  singu- 
lar, wondering  no  doubt  why  it  descended  so  low — 
why  her  head  was  protected  by  a  bonnet  instead  of  a 
veil — and  how  it  was  possible  for  her  form  to  possess 
its  symmetry,  without  the  visible  aid  of  the  stomacher. 

But  they  were  not  more  surprised  at  a  novelty  of 
costume  than  we  were ;  though,  had  the  bride  been 
mine,  I  should  have  anticipated  with  no  pleasure,  in 
any  country  or  communit}",  the  necessity  of  an  essen- 
tial change  in  the  style  of  her  dress,  bating  the  short- 
ness of  the  petticoat.  This  dress,  in  its  outline,  is 
what  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  what  it  will 
probably  be  two  thousand  years  hence. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  whimsical  fickleness  of 
taste  in  my  own  country !  Our  garments  instead  of 
being  comely  on  some  future  generation,  the  caprices 
of  fashion  render  ridiculous  even  on  our  own  backs. 
Indeed,  fashions  change  with  such  an  electrical  ra- 
pidity with  us,  that  if  the  boy  who  brings  a  dress 


'2GS  SHIP  AND   SHOEE. 


from  the  milliner's  be  slow  on  the  leg,  it  will  have  to 
be  sent  back  to  be  conformed  to  some  new  freak  of 
fancy,  or  some  more  newly  discovered  model.  Our 
taste  in  dress,  so  far  from  aiding  a  permanent  nation- 
ality of  character,  is  a  mere  bubble, 

"  Which  a  breath  can  break  as  a  breath  hath  made." 

It  is  a  servile  imitation  of  the  fooleries  and  fopperies 
of  some  foreign  metropolis  ;  and  worse  than  this,  it  is 
sometimes  a  serious  submission  to  a  quiz,  played  off 
for  the  merriment  of  others  upon  our  aping  vanity. 

I  have  often  admired  the  good-humored  reply  of 
Franklin  to  his  daughter,  on  her  request  to  be  grati- 
fied with  an  article  of  fashionable  inutility.  While 
that  philosopher  was  embassador  to  the  court  of 
France,  his  daughter  wrote  him  that  ostrich  feathers 
were  all  the  go  in  the  head-dress  of  the  ladies,  and 
requested  him  to  send  her  out  some  of  the  first  quality. 
The  honest  Republican  replied — "  Catch  the  old 
rooster,  my  dear  child,  and  take  some  of  the  longest 
feathers  from  his  tail :  they  will  answer,  my  word  for 
it,  every  purpose."  Were  a  parent  now-a-days  to  tell 
his  daughter  so,  she  would  probably  fly  into  a  nun- 
nery, or  die  of  grief. 

But  I  ask  pardon  of  the  ladies,  for  I  promised  not 
again  to  offend ;  and  I  can  say  in  conciliation,  that 
they  are  not  much  more  extravagant  and  frivolous  in 
their  taste  than  the  men.  And  we  have  this  disad- 
vantage also,  that  we  lie  under  the  just  imputation  of 


TEMPLE   OF   MENEEVA.  2G9 

imitating  their  worst  vagaries.  A  close  observer  ot 
the  variations  occurring  in  tlie  style  and  shape  of  our 
apparel,  cannot  but  remark,  that  we  look  to  the  ladies 
as  truly  as  the  sea  in  its  ebb  and  flow  looks  to  the 
moon.  But  I  must  hasten  on,  for  at  this  rate  my 
story  will  never  get  away  from  Milo, — it  will  die 
here,  like  a  pilgrim  that  has  never  reached  the  shrine 
of  his  saint. 

Taking  two  intelligent  pilots  on  board,  so  that  they 
might  relieve  each  other  in  alternate  watches,  we 
weighed  anchor,  and,  clearing  the  narrow  entrance 
of  the  harbor,  were  once  more  running  before  the 
breeze.  The  next  morning  brought  us  close  to  Cape 
Colonna,  on  the  southern  extremity  of  Attica — a  bold 
promontory — crowned  with  the  magniiicent  reiTxains 
of  the  temple  of  Minerva.  We  solicited  Capt.  Read 
to  lie  to,  till  we  could  visit  these  ruins.  A  boat  was 
immediately  lowered,  and  we  were  soon  on  shore, 
up  the  steep,  and  among  the  remains. 

We  found  twelve  columns  of  the  purest  Penteli- 
can  marble,  with  their  entablatures,  still  standing. 
Others  lying  around,  mingled  with  the  massive  frag- 
ments of  the  cell.  The  stateliness  and  Doric  sim- 
plicity of  these  columns,  with  the  extent  of  the  foun- 
dations on  which  the  edifice  reposed,  afforded  a  noble 
conception  of  its  original  beauty  and  grandeur.  It 
requu'ed  but  little  effort  of  imagination,  with  what 
was  before  us,  to  fill  the  broken  outline,  rear  the 
prostrate  pillars,  extend  the  architrave,  and  perceive 


270  SUIP   AND   SIIOKE. 


in  the  completion  of  the  whole,  a  temple  worthy  of 
the  best  days  of  Greece,  and  deserving  even  the 
high  encomium  which  Pericles  is  said  to  have  passed 
upon  it. 

From  the  decisions  of  this  artist  there  has  never 
yet  been  found  a  just  ground  of  appeal.  His  genius 
was  an  oracle  to  which  nations  listened ;  and  we  are 
even  now  disinhuming  cities  to  recover  the  sacred 
sanctions  of  his  taste  and  judgment.  In  architecture, 
sculpture,  and  poetry,  the  world  has  lost  its  richest 
specimens,  and  has  not  the  power  to  restore  them ; 
nor  will  this  power  ever  be  realized,  unless  it  shall 
awake  in  the  regenerated  Greek. 

On  one  of  the  pilasters  still  standing,  among  a 
multitude  of  names  unknown  to  song,  I  discovered 
one  that  was  a  brilliant  exception,  and  well  worthy 
of  its  place, — it  was  the  name  of  the  author  of  Childe 
Harold,  engraven  here  under  his  own  eye,  in  his 
pilgrimage  to  this  relic.  If  any  one  could,  without 
profanation,  presume  in  this  form  upon  the  sacred 
remains  of  ancient  art,  it  was  this  wandering,  weep- 
ing, and  admiring  minstrel.  He  not  only  entertained 
himself  a  profound  veneration  for  these  remains, 
but  he  inspired  millions  with  the  same  sentiment. 

Each  moldering  fane,  deserted  shrine,  and  totter- 
ing column  have  found  a  tongue  in  the  pathetic  and 
eloquent  spirit  of  his  numbers.  He  kneeled  amid 
the  relics  of  a  ruined  race,  and,  in  the  eloquence  of 


his   admiration   and   sorrow,   touched   an   electrical 


CAPE   OF   COLONNA.  271 


chain  of  sympathy  that  has  kindled  and  vibrated  in 
all  lands.  He  finally  set  the  last  and  decisive  seal 
of  the  martyr  to  the  sincerity  of  his  reverence  and 
grief.  His  name  is  now  embalmed  among  ruins, 
on  which  his  genius  has  cast  the  splendors  of  a  fresli 
immortality. 

Lingering  around  the  relic,  which  now  seems  to 
sanctify  Colonna,  I  found  myself  invaded  by  one 
deep  and  melancholy  sentiment — a  sentiment  of  utter 
desolation,  I  was  standing  where  thousands  once 
thronged  to  pay  their  festive  devotions ;  where  tlie 
ancient  Sunium  embraced  its  happy  multitudes ; 
where  the  eloquent  Plato,  with  his  serene  philosophy, 
soared  like  an  angel  with  his  golden  lyre  to  heaven. 
Now  not  a  human  being  to  be  seen,  not  a  solitary 
voice  to  be  heard,  and  not  even  a  sound  stirring  to 
relieve  the  unbroken  silence  of  the  place,  except  the 
hollow  moan  of  the  wave  as  it  died  on  the  desolate 
shore ! 

I  could  have  sat  down  there  and  wept  over  the 
dark  destiny  of  man  ;  for  if  a  people  so  inventive  in 
monuments  to  perpetuate  their  power  and  splendor, 
become  a  blank,  how  soon  will  those  spots,  now  the 
seats  of  refinement,  opulence,  and  gayety,  be  changed 
to  empty  sepulchres  !  and  the  ruin  will  never  stop, 
nor  will  it  ever  be  repaired.  Babylon  is  still  a 
desert,  and  Palmyi-a  known  only  to  the  wandering 
Arab.  Other  continents  may  perhaps  be  discovered, 
and  other  islands  emerge  fi'om  the  ocean,  but  over  all 


272  SHIP    AND    SHORE. 


that  now  smiles  in  the  light  of  the  sun,  the  dark  tide 
of  ruin  and  death  moves  on  with  a  slow  but  inevita- 
ble tread. 

The  only  solace  in  our  doom  is  the  assurance  that 
nature,  in  her  salient  and  self-restoring  power,  may 
remain — that  the  same  sun  which  gilds  our  palaces 
will  gild  our  graves — that  the  same  sky  which  pa- 
vilions our  pomp  and  pride  will  canopy  our  dust. 
But  this  cannot  benefit  us,  or  serve  to  cheer  the  pil- 
grim who  may  ages  hence  wander  to  our  tombs. 
What  know  the  dead  who  were  sepulchred  here,  of 
the  surviving  light  and  influences  of  nature  ?  It  is 
of  no  moment  to  them  that  the  succession  of  morn 
and  eve,  the  budding  spring  and  mellow  autumn,  are 
still  repeated.  And  the  stranger  who  pauses  here, 
only  feels  a  deeper  sadness  at  seeing  the  wave  still 
sparkle  on  its  strand,  and  the  light,  with  its  purple 
and  gold,  still  fringing  the  cliff,  while  all  else  only 
bespeaks  decay  and  ruin. 

The  towers  of  Thebes,  which  millions  toiled  to  rear, 
In  scattered  ruins  own  the  earthquake's  shock ; 

The  fleets  of  Rome,  that  filled  the  isles  with  fear, 
The  storm  hath  left  in  fragments  on  the  rock : 

But  thrones  may  crumble,  empires  reach  their  goal ; 

Their  frailties  reach  not  thee,  thou  deathless  Soul ! 

The  mighty  mound  that  guards  Achilles'  dust ; 

The  marble  strength  of  Agamemnon's  tomb ; 
The  pyramid  of  Cheop's  dying  trust. 

Now  only  give  to  doubt  a  deeper  gloom; 


sniPAVRECK    OF   FALCONER.  273 

But  Plato's  memory  ages  still  shall  find 
Immortal  mid  the  triumphs  of  the  mind. 

A  signal-giin  from  the  ship  for  our  return,  aroused 
me  from  the  reverie  in  which  my  thoughts  had 
been  thus  gloomily  wandering.  On  reaching  our 
boat,  we  passed  over  the  memorable  spot  where 
Falconer  was  wrecked — a  catastrophe  which  he  has 
converted  into  strains  of  the  most  poetic  and  touch- 
ing character.  This  hymning  mariner  found  the 
elements  of  his  poetry,  his  home,  and  his  grave  in 
the  ocean. 

The  ship  in  which  he  finally  left  his  native  shore 
for  the  East  Indies,  never  reached  her  port.  Slie 
was  arrested  on  her  way :  how  long  she  struggled 
with  the  tempest,  and  with  what  feelings  they  whom 
she  bore  met  their  doom,  are  secrets  which  will  never 
be  revealed  by  the  incommunicable  sea.  Could  the 
harp  of  the  poet  have  floated  away  with  the  sad 
story  of  his  death,  thousands  would  now  be  listening, 
weeping,  and  clinging  with  increased  fondness  to 
their  hearths.  There  is  over  the  fate  of  those  who 
go  to  sea  and  are  never  heard  from  again,  a  tragical 
uncertainty  and  horror  which  must  fill  the  most 
apathetic  heart  with  emotion. 

Having  mounted  the  ship's  side  again,  orders  -were 
immediately  given  to  fill  away,  and  we  were  soon 
moving  up  through  the  Doro  passage,  which  lies  be- 
tween ISTegropont  and  Andros.      This  channel  being 

12^^ 


274  SHIP   AND    SHOEE. 


the  one  generally  preferred  by  merchantmen  bound 
to  Smyrna,  became  a  favorite  hannt  for  pirates — a 
class  of  men  who  took  upon  themselves  the  respon- 
sibility of  collecting  a  sort  of  water-tax,  for  which 
they  have  been  much  scandalized  in  this  censorious 
world. 

They  levy  a  contribution  and  exact  it  at  the  peril 
of  their  lives — kings  do  the  same,  but  with  vastly 
less  hazard  to  themselves;  for  their  majesties,  in 
case  of  resistance  to  their  exactions,  have  only  to  sit 
in  their  palaces  and  issue  an  order  to  some  inferior 
agent  for  their  immediate  enforcement;  while  the 
corsair  has  to  enforce  his  demands  himself,  and  is 
frequently  battling  it,  breast  to  breast,  at  a  desperate 
odds. 

If  taken  himself,  instead  of  taking  the  gold  of  his 
opponent,  he  will  scorn  to  crave  a  life  as  a  suppliant, 
which  he  has  forfeited  as  a  pirate ;  whereas  a  king, 
the  moment  he  becomes  a  captive,  compounds  for  his 
personal  safety  by  treasonably  betraying  his  subjects, 
and  forfeiting  his  realm.  I  think  the  advantages  of 
dignity,  courage,  and  self-respect,  decidedly  on  the 
side  of  those  who  levy  contributions  on  the  water, 
upon  the  force  of  their  own  steel  and  valor. 

Leaving  Negropont  on  the  left — a  fruitful  island 
abounding  in  the  grape,  olive,  orange,  citron,  and 
pomegranate,  and  the  largest  in  the  J^gean,  with  the 
exception  of  Crete — we  doubled  the  northern  cape  of 
Andros,  which  is  much  less  in  its  dimensions  than  its 


ISLAI^D   OF   IPSAEA.  275 


Negropontan  neighbor,  but  equally  fertile  in  its  soil, 
and  delicious  in  its  fruits.  The  ancients  owed  this 
island  an  unaccountable  spite,  and  christened  two  of 
its  tutelary  divinities  Poverty  and  Despau* ;  when, 
according  to  their  own  confessions,  it  had  not  only  a 
beautiful  temple  dedicated  to  the  jolly  Bacchus,  but 
a  fountain  near  it,  whose  waters  on  the  Ides  of  Janu- 
ary tasted  so  very  like  wine,  that  the  most  exquisite 
connoisseur  could  not  tell  the  difference. 

Passing  on,  Ipsara  soon  appeared  on  our  larboard 
bow,  a  small  island  of  wild  ragged  peaks  and  rock- 
bound  shore.  Its  inhabitants,  in  their  struggle  for 
independence,  exhibited  a  heroism  that  would  not 
have  disparaged  the  days  of  Leonidas.  After  con- 
tending with  their  swarming  foes  till  every  ray  of 
hope  was  extinguished,  they  blew  up  their  fortifica- 
tions, whelming  themselves  and  thousands  of  their 
enemies  in  instant  death. 

Those  who  were  not  within  the  works,  to  escape 
the  vengeance  or  lust  of  the  Mussulman,  threw  them- 
selves into  the  sea.  The  mother  was  seen  on  every 
cliff,  clasping  her  infant  to  her  breast,  and  plunging 
into  the  wave,  with  her  shrieking  daughters  at  her 
side.  Youth  and  beauty,  maternal  tenderness  and 
infant  sweetness,  were  seen  for  days  floating  around 
this  isle  on  their  watery  bier ;  a  sight  which  might 
have  moved  the  very  rocks  with  indignation  and  pity, 
but  which  the  Turk  looked  upon  with  triumph  and 
pride.    The  island  is  now  a  blackened  ruin — thus  let 


276  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 

it  remain,  as  a  friglitfnl  and  becoming  monument  of 
the  desolating  spirit  of  Islamism. 

Close  on  our  starboard  beam  lay  Scio,  once  a  flour- 
ishing and  populous  island,  now  another  naked  and 
ghastly  memorial  of  Moslem  vengeance.  At  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Eevolution,  the  inhabitants, 
owing  to  their  removal  from  the  great  scene  of  action, 
to  the  complicated  character  of  their  commerce,  and 
being  naturally  of  a  quiet  disposition,  declined  in- 
volving themselves  in  the  confederation.  They  were 
in  the  enjoyment  of  privileges  to  which  the  other 
islanders  were  strangers,  and  they  very  naturally  felt 
a  reluctance  in  putting  these  blessings,  small  as  they 
were,  upon  the  hazard  of  a  die  that  might  consign 
them  to  utter  ruin,  without  perhaps  benefiting  their 
brethren. 

A  suspicion  at  length,  on  the  part  of  the  Aga,  or 
military  governor,  of  a  disposition  in  them  to  favor 
the  spirit  of  revolt  that  was  abroad,  put  an  end  to 
these  privileges,  and  a  system  of  the  most  oppressive 
violence  was  adopted.  To  these  atrocious  measures, 
however,  they  unresistingly  submitted,  till  their 
wrongs,  increasing  with  their  forbearance,  attained 
an  aggravation  and  malignity  that  became  at  last 
insupportable.  Their  elders  and  opulent  citizens  were 
cast  into  prison  as  hostages — their  fields  and  dwell- 
ings plundered  by  mercenary  soldiers,  and  the  sanc- 
tity of  virtue  wantonly  outraged.  Still  they  hesitated 
in  adopting  the  desperate  alternative  of  open  resist- 


ISLAJTO  OF   SCIO.  277 


ance,  and  liung  in  torturing  suspense  till  roused  by 
tlie  reckless  zeal  of  a  few  wandering  Samians. 

They  were  without  an  organized  plan  of  operation, 
without  the  advantages  of  discipline,  or  the  imple- 
ments of  war,  but  arming  themselves  with  sucli 
weapons  as  their  forest  furnished,  they  rose  on  their 
oppressors.  Fortune,  for  a  time,  under  all  these  dis- 
advantages, seemed  to  favor  their  perilous  determina- 
tion ;  but  the  alarm  having  been  given  to  the  Ad- 
miral of  the  Turkish  fleet,  who  was  supposed  at  the 
time  to  be  at  a  much  greater  distance,  he  immediately 
anchored  in  the  bay,  with  a  force  of  forty  sail,  and 
opened  all  their  batteries  on  the  devoted  town. 

The  scene  that  followed  has  no  parallel  in  the 
history  of  modern  warfare.  It  was  not  the  suppres- 
sion of  a  rebellion,  but  the  total  extermination  of  a 
people,  who  had  ever  been  characterized  for  their 
amiable  and  forgiving  dispositions.  The  town  was 
taken,  sacked,  and  demolished — the  priests  and 
elders,  who  had  been  cast  into  prison  as  hostages, 
were  brought  out  and  impaled  alive — and  the  inhabit- 
ants of  every  age  and  condition,  without  regard  to 
sex,  were  hunted  down  in  every  retreat,  and  massa- 
cred in  cold  blood ;  till  at  last,  the  whole  island,  so 
recently  teeming  with  life  and  beauty,  became  a 
Golgotha  of  groans  and  blood.  If  there  be  a  God  in 
heaven,  such  crimes  as  these  will  not  go  unpmiished  ! 
The  retribution  may  linger,  but  it  will  come  in  the 
end  like  lightning  from  the  cloud. 


278  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


The  frown  of  God  will  on  the  guilty  fall, 
Like  volleyed  thunder  on  the  trembling  sea ; 

Despair  o'ercloud  them,  with  its  sunless  pall, 
While  bursts  the  wail  of  their  wild  agony, 

Like  that  of  nations,  when  their  cities  rock, 

And  fall  in  ruins  with  the  earthquake's  shock. 

Let  the  man  who  can  reproach  the  retaliating  spirit 
of  the  Greek,  or  the  conduct  of  the  Allies  at  l^avarino, 
visit  this  island.  Let  him  plant  his  foot  where  the 
flourishing  town  of  Scio  once  stood,  and  gaze  on  a 
mangled  mass  of  ruins — ^let  him  stand  where  the 
Attic  college  rose,  with  its  library  of  thirt}^  thousand 
volumes,  and  its  assemblage  of  seven  hundred  youth 
receiving  the  elements  of  a  classic  education,  and  be 
presented  only  with  ashes — let  him  grope  through 
the  choked-up  streets  and  call  for  the  once  thronging 
and  happy  population,  and  hear  not  a  voice  in  reply 
— ^let  him  wander  through  the  fields  where  innumer- 
able vineyards  once  showered  their  purple  store,  and 
meet  with  only  the  bramble  and  the  lizard — and  then 
let  him  inquire  why  an  island  so  populous  and  fruit- 
ful as  this,  has  become  a  waste  and  a  tomb.  Let 
him  ask  what  crime  has  been  committed  to  draw 
down  this  desolating  curse. 

Let  the  dead  answer :  Because  we  offered  resist- 
ance to  wrongs  and  outrages,  from  which  the  grave 
is  a  welcome  refuge  ! — God  of  my  fathers  !  there  was 
a  time  when  enormities  like  these  would  have  roused 
up  a  spirit,  before  which  the  guilty  perpetrator  would 


RUINS  OF  scio.  279 


have  sunk  in  shame  and  despair  !  But  we  coolly  sit 
and  canvass  the  policy  of  a  measure  that  would  pre- 
vent a  repetition  of  these  bratalities.  In  the  name 
of  humanity,  what  is  religion  worth,  unless  it  lead  us 
to  defend  the  innocent,  and  succor  the  helpless  ?  Let 
us  cast  off  the  name  of  Christianity,  unless  we  can 
perform  some  of  its  most  obvious  and  imperative 
duties.  If  we  cannot  show  ourselves  worthy  of  our 
calling,  let  us  cast  aside  the  mask,  and  stand  con- 
fessed for  what  we  really  are.  Let  us  cease  to  hug  a 
profession  which  serves  only  to  betray  others,  and 
must  in  the  end  expose  us  to  the  deepest  humiliation 
and  reproach. 

I  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  linger  here,  yet  I  cannot 
but  ponder,  as  I  pass  along,  and  give  vent  to  feelings 
excited  by  objects  so  full  of  interest,  I  cannot  re- 
strain the  ton-ent  of  my  soul,  when  passing  a  spot 
that  has  been  thus  steeped  with  the  blood  of  the  great 
and  the  brave.  I  wish  the  sighs,  agonies,  and  de- 
spairing shrieks,  of  which  this  island  was  the  scene, 
might  float  on  every  breeze  through  the  earth,  to 
sicken  men's  hearts  with  the  hateful  deformities  of 
war. 

Could  the  sufferings  and  sorrows  of  which  the  field 
of  battle  has  been  the  source,  be  gathered  up,  and 
speak  in  their  collected  wretchedness,  the  horrors  of 
a  thousand  earthquakes  would  be  forgotten  amidst 
the  lamentations  and  wailings  that  would  then  sweep 
through  the  habitations  of  mankind.     God  formed 


280  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


man  upright,  and  j^laced  him  in  a  world  of  beauty 
and  happiness  ;  but  he  has  profaned  his  high  nature, 
and  changed  his  dwelling  into  a  charnel-house. 

13 ut  to  resume  the  path  of  our  ship.  Leaving 
Metelin  on  our  larboard  quarter,  we  doubled  Cape 
Karabornu,  and  entered  the  Gulf  of  Smyrna.  This 
arm  of  the  sea  strikes  up  some  fifty  miles  into  the 
main  land,  and  is  invaded  at  several  points  by  an 
abrupt  termination  of  some  mountain  range,  shoul- 
dering its  way  boldly  forward  with  its  stupendous 
steeps  of  forest  and  rock.  At  other  points,  a  circular 
sweep  of  small  islands,  rising  near  the  shore  and 
bending  into  the  gulf,  subserve  the  purposes  of  a 
mole,  and  give  an  air  of  varied  beauty  to  the  whole. 

On  one  of  these  islands,  the  first  in  a  small  chain 
that  swell  to  the  right  as  we  pass  up,  stood  the  an- 
cient Clazomense.  In  its  day  it  had  the  aspect  of  a 
neat  fioating  city  ;  the  dwellings  rising  over  the  oval 
curve  of  its  form,  with  light  and  beautiful  effect. 
The  pier  connecting  it  at  a  distance  of  one-fourth  of 
a  mile  with  the  main,  constructed  by  Alexander,  is 
still  standing,  and  though  dilapidated,  is  sufliciently 
entire  to  subserve  still  the  purposes  of  its  original 
construction. 

The  Clazomenians,  however,  were  in  course  of  time 
forced  to  relinquish  their  isle  of  palaces,  to  escape 
from  the  annoying  visits  of  the  pirates  of  Tino.  This 
was  very  wrong  in  the  Tinoan  corsair ;  his  familiarity 
any  where  is  a  great  liberty,  and  he  should  ncit  extend 


ANCIENT   CLAZOMEN.E.  281 


his  freedom  to  the  land.  It  was  a  breach  of  good- 
breeding  which  can  never  be  excused,  especially  as 
his  obtrusiveness  was  ultimately  the  means  of  leaving 
to  this  island  only  the  Mosaic  pavements,  which  are 
still  the  wonder  of  the  traveller. 

Passing  Clazomenae,  which  now  in  its  desolate 
beauty  bears  the  name  of  him  who  once  dwelt  in 
Patmos  ; — passing  near  by  the  small  town  of  Yourla, 
standing  on  its  two  hills,  from  which  the  Turks  and 
Franks  look  at  each  other,  with  feelings  and  habits 
that  will  amalgamate  when  their  hills  rush  together ; — 
passing  the  excellent  and  convenient  fountain  where 
our  ships  replenish  their  exhausted  tanks,  breathing 
a  blessing,  as  they  depart,  to  that  article  in  the  Mus- 
sulman's faith  which  inculcates  these  hospitable  pro- 
visions for  the  wayfaring  and  weary ; — passing  the 
neglected  fortress  which  was  posted  here  to  command 
the  pass,  with  its  guns  of  ostentatious  calibre,  and 
huge  marble  balls  piled  around  the  low  embrasure, 
but  which,  with  all  its  threatening  malignity,  like  our 
unfortunate  Ticonderoga,  may  be  overawed  and  si- 
lenced from  a  neighboring  height ; — passing  the  in- 
vading shoals,  which  the  Hermus,  in  strange  forget- 
fulness  of  its  classic  purity,  is  depositing,  and  which, 
if  the  sad  prophecies  of  many  shrewd  observers  prove 
true,  will  one  day  stagnate  the  gulf ; — passing  many 
woody  steeps,  where  the  huntsmen  are  still  wont  to 
chase  the  wild-boar  and  goat,  and  a  succession  of  val- 
leys, with  their  groves  of  the  olive,  the  fig,  the  almond, 


2S2  SHIP  AND   SHORE. 


the  pomegranate,  with  the  trailing  grape, — we  came 
at  last  in  front  of  Smyrna,  crowning  the  head-water, 
and  giving  tliat  sort  of  plump  satisfaction,  which  one 
feels  in  knowing  that  he  has  arrived  indisputably  at 
the  end  of  his  journey. 

Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  one  week  will  not  have 
elapsed,  before  the  crew  of  this  ship  will  begin  to 
manifest  some  of  their  roving  impulses. 

A  sailor  finds,  where'er  he  goes  ashore, 

One  whom  he  cherishes  with  some  affection; 

But  leaving  port,  he  thinks  of  her  no  more, 
Unless  it  be  in  some  severe  reflection 

Upon  his  wicked  ways ;  then  with  a  sigh 

Resolves  on  reformation — ere  he  die. 

He  thinks  his  dialect  the  very  best 

That  ever  flowed  from  any  human  lip, 
And  whether  in  his  prayers,  or  at  a  jest, 

Employs  the  terms  for  managing  a  ship ; 
And  even  in  death  would  order  up  the  helm, 
In  hope  to  clear  the  undiscovered  realm. 

An  order  given,  and  he  obeys  of  course. 

Though  'twere  to  run  his  ship  upon  the  rocks — 

Capture  a  squadron  with  a  boat's  crew  force — 
Or  batter  down  the  massive  granite  blocks 

Of  some  huge  fortress  with  a  swivel,  pike, 

Pistol,  aught  that  will  throw  a  ball,  or  strike. 

He  never  shrinks,  whatever  may  betide ; 

His  weapon  may  be  shivered  in  his  hand. 
His  last  companion  shot  down  at  his  side, 

Still  he  maintains  his  firm  and  desperate  stand — 
Bleeding  and  battling — with  his  colors  fast 
As  nail  can  bind  them  to  his  shattered  mast. 


SMYRNA.  283 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Far  in  thy  realm  withdrawn, 
Old  empires  sit  in  sulleoness  and  gloom ; 

And  glorious  ages  gone 
Lie  deep  within  the  shadow  of  thy  womb. 

Cliildhood,  with  all  its  mirth, 
Youth,  manhood,  age,  that  draws  us  to  the  ground, 

And  last,  man's  life  on  earth, 

Glide  to  thy  dim  dominions,  and  are  bound. 

Bryant. 

SMTBNA — ITS     SEAMEN MOTLEY    POPULATION THE    TAETAR-JANIZART 

MODERN  WARFARE — ENCOUNTERS    IN   THREADING   THE    STREETS FRUIT 

MARKET  —  BAZARS GREEK     GIRLS TURKISH     BURIAL-GROUND THE 

CHILD    UNACQUAINTED    WITH    DEATH SMYRNA    CONTINUED RELIGIOUS 

SECTS VISIT  TO  GOVERNOR HIS    PALACE PIPES HORSES TROOPS 

COFFEE-HOUSE  SCENE — PRAYERS   OF   THE   MUSSULMEN MARTYRDOM    OF 

POLYCARP BIRTH-PLACE  OF  HOMER PARTING  WITH  THE  READER. 

Otir  sliip  was  now  riding  quietly  at  anchor,  before 
Smyrna ;  and  I  was  casting  about  to  catch  a  few  of 
the  singular  sights  and  incidents  of  flood  and  field. 
The  quay  was  lined  with  vessels  bearing  the  flags  of 
different  nations — clearly  indicating  the  commercial 
importance  of  the  place.  It  gave  me  feelings  of  pe- 
culiar pleasure,  to  see  here  in  this  "  distant  orient" 
the  stars  of  my  own  country  floating  independently 
among  crowns  and  crescents.  A  considerable  portion 
of  the  craft  were  the  Levantine  feluccas — confining 
the  utmost  range  of  their  nautical  daring  to  the  shores 


284  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


of  the  Mediterranean — seldom  ventuiing  out  sight 
of  land — and  thus,  by  this  strand-keeping  anxiety, 
encountering  a  thousand  perils  from  which  the  open 
sea  is  exempt. 

The  Levantine  sailor  is  as  constant  and  stationary 
in  his  habits  as  are  the  rocks  on  which  he  is  so  fre- 
quently wrecked.  He  constructs  his  vessel  after  the 
same  model  which  was  observed  centuries  ago,  and 
navigates  her  as  anxiously  from  island  to  island,  or 
close  along  the  coast,  as  did  the  Argonauts  their 
crowded  ship  in  search  of  Colchis.  His  craft,  with 
its  wedge-like  stem,  and  triangular  stern,  has  upon  it 
every  evidence  of  rudeness  and  haste — it  is  just  such 
a  thing  as  mariners,  cast  upon  some  forlorn  coast, 
would  drive  together.  Yet  this  ill-shapen  waddler 
is  made  to  float  in  the  dream  of  the  classic  poet, 
gracefully  as  the  motion  of  a  swan  on  the  breast  of  a 
lake.  How  poetic  illusion  vanishes,  when  the  reality 
comes  up ! 

Among  nearer  objects  on  shore,  the  Marino  first 
attracts  the  eye.  It  is  bordered  by  a  range  of  Con- 
sular residences,  and  is  constantly  trod  by  a  bustling 
crowd,  with  every  variety  of  dialect  and  costume 
that  have  obtained  since  Babel  was  confounded,  and 
Joseph's  coat  of  many  colors  stitched  together.  Smyr- 
na is  said  to  contain  a  more  numerous  and  vivid 
representation  of  national  character  and  j)eculiarities, 
than  any  other  city  in  the  world — and  I  believe  it ; 
for  I  have  never  read  or  dreamed  of  any  communities, 


TURK   AND   GEKEK.  2S5 


except  t'liose  in  the  moon,  that  are  not  appropriately 
represented  here. 

This  motley  crowd  have  also  no  tendency  whatever 
to  amalgamation.  They  are  as  distinct  in  feature, 
language,  and  habits  of  life,  as  if  they  had  been  but 
yesterday,  by  some  tremendous  convulsion  in  nature, 
thrown  together  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe. 
I  have  stood  by  the  hour  together,  displaying  my 
want  of  good-breeding,  in  laughing  at  the  ring- 
streaked  and  speckled  throng  as  they  went  by — each 
uttering  a  distinct  language — and  making  in  the 
whole  a  chorus,  embracing  every  sound,  from  the 
whispering  of  the  reed  in  the  wind,  to  the  crack  in 
the  thunder-cloud. 

In  appearance  and  movement  the  Turk  is  the  most 
majestic  and  imposing.  His  frame  is  portly  and 
muscular ;  indicating,  in  every  look  and  motion,  a  life 
of  ease  and  unconcern.  His  green  turban  rolls  in  rich 
pomp  about  his  head  ;  his  blue  embroidered  sj)enser 
descends  into  a  broad  red  sash,  which  encircles  his 
waist,  supporting  at  the  same  time  his  mounted  pistol, 
and  jewelled  yataghan ;  his  white  trowsers  flow  full  and 
free  to  the  gathering  ankle,  where  the  green  slipper 
receives  the  foot  and  terminates  the  variety.  He 
moves  on  with  a  slow,  dignified  step,  allowing  to  no 
object  even  the  compliment  of  an  oblique  glance — 
with  a  countenance  of  imperturbable  gravity,  betray- 
ing in  its  composm-e  that  self-complacent  confidence 
which  leads  you  to  suppose  that  he  is  confident  of 


2S0  SHIP   AND   SHORE, 


going,  whatever  may  betide,  to  the  seventh  heaven 
of  the  Prophet. 

Near  him  strides  the  Armenian,  with  his  large 
brown  calpec,  snuif-colored  gown,  and  red  boot,  medi- 
tating on  some  new  banking  scheme,  or  whispering 
to  himself  some  unfamiliar  terms,  which  he  may  have 
occasion  to  nse  in  the  office  as  dragoman.  Then 
follows  the  Jew  in  his  careless,  promiscuous  attire, 
without  weapons,  but  ready  to  purchase  out  all  Smyr- 
na for  you,  at  a  trifling  advance  beyond  the  original 
cost. 

Tlien  darts  past  the  Greek  in  his  red  cap,  round 
jacket,  and  ample  kilts,  twisting  his  mustaches,  or 
replenishing  his  pipe,  and  snapping  his  eyes  around, 
as  if  some  sudden  peril,  or  new  scheme  of  cunning 
had  occurred  to  him.  ISTow  dashes  by  the  Tartar- 
Janizary  in  his  stiff  capote,  with  his  trusty  weapons 
in  their  place,  defiance  and  fidelity  in  his  eye,  and 
on  a  steed  of  quick  hoof,  leading  some  party  of 
travellers  to  Sardis,  Ephesus,  Constantinople,  or  any- 
where else  that  their  curiosity  or  interest  may  require. 

There  is  something  about  this  wild  being,  that 
strikes  the  most  careless  observer.  It  is  not  his 
equipage  so  much  as  his  bearing,  and  the  fierce  un- 
alterable decision  and  energy  which  flash  from  his 
eye.  He  looks  as  one  whom  you  could  rely  upon  in 
an  horn'  of  peril  and  conflict — whom  you  would  like 
to  have  at  your  side  if  waylaid  by  robbers — and  who 
would  resolutely  deal  the  deadly  blow,  though  but  a 


MODERN   WAEFAUE.  2S7 


li-agment  of  liis  blade  remained.  An  army  composed 
of  such  men  would  make  every  disputed  field  and 
pass  a  Marathon,  or  Thermopylae ;  and  I  am  not  sure 
but  that  the  interests  of  humanity  would  be  consulted 
by  such  inevitable  alternatives.  "Wars  would  be 
more  bloody,  but  they  would  be  of  less  dm'ation,  and 
occur  with  vastly  less  frequency. 

We  have  now  so  much  marching  and  counter- 
marching— so  much  scouting  and  skirmishing — so 
much  shooting  behind  the  bush,  bramble,  and  breast- 
work— so  much  rallying  and  running, — the  great 
and  solemn  "  note  of  preparation"  all  the  while  sound- 
ing— that  our  wars  are  as  long  and  doubtful  as  the 
siege  of  Troy.  In  the  mean  time  hundreds  are  dying 
— some  from  random  shots  and  sallies — some  from 
disease  and  privations  incident  to  camp  life — some 
from  having  deserted,  others  fr'om  ennui,  and  not  a 
few  from  potulency. 

The  difference  is,  that  in  one  case  men  die  at  once, 
and  in  the  mass — in  the  other  they  die  singly  and  by 
inches ;  and  I  leave  it  for  amateurs  in  gunpowder 
and  gold  lace  to  determine  which  involves  the  great- 
est expense  of  treasure  and  blood.  For  my  own  part, 
I  am  in  favor  of  carrying  the  art  of  war  to  such  a  de- 
gree of  perfection  and  disj)atch,  that  the  fate  of  a 
Waterloo  or  Austerlitz  may  be  decided  in  fifteen 
minutes,  and  then  let  the  survivors  go  home  and 
attend  to  their  domestic  and  civil  concerns. 

As  for  naval  engagements,  I  have  just  now  but  very 


288  SHIP  AND  SHORE. 


little  to  say  on  that  subject.  It  is  not  a  pleasant 
tiling  to  be  sunk,  and  it  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  be 
captured ;  but  whether  victory  or  death  is  to  be  the 
result,  let  it  come  at  once, — no  apprehensive  nia- 
noeuvering — no  playing  off  and  on — no  wearing  and 
tacking; — no  nice  calculations  of  relative  force :  be 
the  future  a  repetition  of  the  past — ^lay  the  ship  gal- 
lantly to  her  place — and  then  triumph,  or  sink,  as  the 
tide  of  battle  may  turn. 

I  did  not  think,  when  the  Tartar  dashed  past  me, 
that  the  daring  fierceness  of  his  eye  would  lead  me 
into  a  lecture  on  military  and  naval  tactics.  But  our 
thoughts  are  like  the  enchanter's  birds,  flying  to  what- 
ever quarter  of  the  earth  or  sea  the  wand  is  pointed, 
I  should  be  willing  to  have  mine  wander  almost 
anywhere,  to  get  rid  of  the  narrow  and  dirty  alleys 
of  Smyrna.  I  found  myself,  in  threading  some  of 
them,  in  a  predicament  truly  unbecoming  a  gentle- 
man,— ^who,  if  Shakspeare's  definition  be  good  au- 
thority, is  one  that  "  holds  large  discourse,  looking 
before  and  after."  I  had  nothing  to  discourse  to, 
unless  it  were  dogs,  and  dirt,  and  dingy  dwellings, 
— except  now  and  then,  when  a  form  moved  past 
me  wrapped  in  a  Avhite  sheet  and  close  visor,  but 
coming  in  such  a  "  questionable  shape,"  I  could  not 
speak  it ;  for  it  required  more  nerve  than  it  would 
to  accost  a  spectre  in  the  silence  and  gloom  of  a 
sepulchre. 

I  was  told  that  each  of  these  walking  phantoms 


CAMELS    AND    PORTERS.  289 

was  a  Turkish  female !  "  Angels  and  ministers  of 
grace  defend  us  !"  If  death  himself  had  invented  a 
garb,  it  could  not  have  been  more  frightful !  How 
the  harem  can  need  any  protection  bejond  it,  is  in- 
conceivable. Had  the  arch-deceiver  on  his  first  visit 
to  earth  encountered  Eve  in  such  a  disguise,  he  would 
have  run  howling  out  of  Eden.  What  a  world  is  this 
in  which  we  live !  beautiful  in  its  origin,  replete  in 
its  resources,  but  darkened  and  disfigured  bj  the 
jealousies  and  passions  of  man. 

Another  source  of  trouble  in  threading  the  narrow 
streets  of  Smyrna,  is  encountering  loaded  camels  that 
come  along  in  strings  of  one  or  two  hundred,  fastened 
together,  and  led  by  a  little  jackass,  who  appears  not 
more  foolish  and  sulky  than  you  feel,  in  being  obliged 
to  squat  down  upon  the  first  stone,  to  escape  a  worse 
fate  from  the  sweeping  range  of  their  enormous  sacks. 
There  is  no  alternative  left  you,  but  either  to  retreat 
or  squat :  and  if  you  determine  on  the  latter,  you 
must  sit  there  till  the  whole  interminable  file  have 
crept  past. 

You  may  then  get  up  and  move  on,  but  before  you 
have  got  ten  roods,  you  will  run  a  narrow  chance  of 
being  knocked  down  by  the  poking  end  of  some  long 
plank,  or  beam,  borne  by  a  bent  porter,  whose  dis- 
tance from  the  projecting  extremity  of  his  burden, 
frequently  prevents  your  hearing  the  dead  moan 
which  he  gives  as  the  only  admonition  of  his  coming. 
His  untimely  warning  can  be  of  very  little  service  or 

13 


290  SHIP    AND   SHOKE. 


consolation  to  you,  picking  yourself  up  from  the  filth 
of  the  street,  after  having  ruined  a  coat,  on  which 
your  tailor  exerted  the  highest  skill  of  his  profession. 

These  porters  are  usually  Turks,  who  pay  a  liberal 
bounty  for  the  privilege  of  their  occupation.  Tlie 
weight  which  they  carry  is  incredible  ;  it  inclines 
one  to  some  confidence  in  the  correctness  of  Doctor 
Nisborn's  theory — that  tlie  muscles  of  the  human 
system  are  capable  of  being  brought  to  such  a  degree 
of  strength  and  endurance  that  a  man  might  carry 
the  globe  on  his  back,  could  he  only  find  a  j)latform 
beneath  on  which  to  walk. 

The  most  bustling  and  attractive  spot  in  Smyrna 
is  within  the  Bazars,  occupying  the  centre  of  the 
city.  These  shops,  forming  a  succession  of  low  and 
convenient  arcades,  contain  all  the  finery  and  foppery 
of  the  East ;  and  are  constantly  thronged  by  the  na- 
tives, who  appear  to  find  half  their  pleasures  and  ex- 
citements in  purchasing  trinkets  and  gewgaws. 

Among  the  most  interesting  of  these  purchasers,  are 
the  Greek  girls,  chattering,  as  you  often  find  them, 
to  some  old  Turk,  Armenian,  or  Jew,  over  the  queer 
beauty  of  some  trifle,  and  laughing  with  a  glee  that 
makes  you  good-natured  with  all  the  world.  Their 
flashing  eyes,  and  sprightly  conversation,  with  the 
fresh  gladness  which  fills  each  feature,  afibrds  you 
more  pleasure  than  you  can  experience  among  the 
most  refined  circles. 

I  began  to  think  that  I  had  found  nature  once 


TURKISn   MERCHANT.  291 

more,  and  tliat,  too,  where  it  was  least  and  last  to  be 
expected.  But  the  grave  and  demure  manner  of  the 
Turk,  seated  on  his  small  carpet,  around  which  his 
glittering  articles  were  exposed  for  sale,  cooled  a  lit- 
tle my  effervescing  enthusiasm.  He  never  smiled, 
he  never  looked  up,  nor  appeared  to  take  the  slight- 
est interest  either  in  the  fair  purchasers  or  the  bar- 
gain. "  "What  a  stupid  block  is  this  !"  I  exclaimed. 
"  There  is  neither  sentiment,  civility,  nor  common 
reason  in  him  !  Why,  I  would  part  with  the  locks 
from  my  temples  for  the  mere  smiles  of  such  sweet 
creatures  !  But  this  unconscionable  fellow  sits  here 
as  untouched  and  unconcerned  as  if  he  were  specu- 
lating with  gravestones." 

I  must  not,  however,  be  too  severe  on  the  Turk,  as 
he  atones  in  some  measure  for  his  want  of  gallantry, 
in  never  recommending  his  articles  for  what  they 
are  not,  and  never  in  his  change  cheating  his  young 
customers.  This  is  more  than  can  be  said  generally 
of  the  Franks  ;  they  are  all  smiles  and  deception, 
politeness  and  imposition.  The  Turk,  though  vastly 
less  attractive  and  engaging,  is  the  safer  man  to  deal 
with.  Yet  among  the  shopping  ladies  of  my  own 
country,  he  would  not  sell  the  value  of  five  farthings 
a  year  ;  for  he  holds  no  chat,  exchanges  no  smiles,  no 
glances,  and  pays  no  compliments.  He  coolly  pre- 
sents the  articles  inquired  for :  if  you  purchase,  well ; 
if  not,  it  is  a  matter  of  your  concern,  not  his. 

Om-  ladies  would  undoubtedly  call  occasionally  at 


292  SinP   AND   SIIOKE. 


liis  shop,  but  it  would  be  to  look  at  his  beard,  dis- 
turb the  slumber  of  his  goods,  vex  his  indolence, 
and  laugh  at  his  self-complacent  taciturnity.  But 
though  ever  so  silent  and  supercilious,  there  are  at 
least  two  things  in  which  you  may  trust  a  Turk  all 
lengths — money  and  malice  :  in  both  he  will  be  sure 
to  render  you  your  full  due,  be  the  consequences 
what  they  may  to  himself. 

The  fruit -market  forms  another  object  of  interest 
in  Smyrna.  It  is  the  true  temple  of  Pomona.  You 
can  scarcely  name  a  product  of  the  garden,  field,  or 
grove,  that  is  not  to  be  found  here,  with  a  delicious 
richness  of  flavor  unknown  to  other  climes.  The 
grape,  apple,  orange,  with  the  fig,  pomegranate,  and 
melon,  seem  to  melt  in  the  mouth,  and  flood  the  taste 
with  a  gushing  richness,  which  lingers  there,  like  the 
absorbing  sensations  of  the  infant  receiving  its  nour- 
ishment at  the  earliest  and  purest  fountain  of  life. 
Even  the  Turk — the  solemn  tranquillity  of  whose 
countenance  is  seldom  disturbed  by  an  emotion  of 
jjleasure — as  the  ripe  peach  of  Sangiac,  or  the  lus- 
cious melon  of  Cassaba,  flows  over  the  palate,  will 
look  up,  as  if  he  had  already  gained  a  portion  of  his 
future  j)aradise. 

There  is  one  species  of  fruit  here,  than  which  the 
charm  of  the  serpent  is  not  more  fascinating  and 
deadly — it  is  the  apricot,  with  its  blushing  beauty 
and  tempting  flavor ;  but  he  who  eats  it  jeopards  his 
life.     It  is  called  here  by  the  natives  the  Kill-Frank, 


TURKISH   BUBIAL-GROUND.  293 

and  so  it  nearly  proved  to  me.  I  began  to  think  that 
I  had  indeed  reached  the  end  of  my  journey — but  its 
tumultuous  agonies  slowly  passed  off,  and  I  am  still 
living  to  stamp  it,  in  all  its  hypocritical  charms,  with 
my  unqualified  denunciation. 

There  is  nothing  so  deceptive  and  fatal,  unless  it 
be  the  mint-julep,  which  some  of  om-  giddy  young 
men  take  before  breakfast  to  reinstate  their  nerves, 
after  the  potulent  excesses  of  the  night  previous. 
They  are  both  fit  only  for  those  who  have  suicidal  in- 
tentions ;  yet,  if  a  man  has  really  determined  to  de- 
stroy himself,  perhaps  the  julep  is  the  preferable  in- 
strument; for  the  victim,  in  his  drunken  delirium, 
will  not  be  unavailingly  visited  by 

"  The  late  repentance  of  that  hour, 
When  Penitence  hath  lost  her  power, 
To  tear  one  terror  from  the  grave. 
And  Tvill  not  soothe,  and  cannot  save." 

The  Tm-kish  burial-ground  fonns  one  of  the  most 
green  and  fresh  features  in  the  landscape  around 
Smyrna.  It  lies  in  quiet  retirement  from  the  noise 
and  empty  parade  of  the  town,  and  seems  in  its  own 
stillness  to  intimate  to  man  the  vanity  of  those  ob- 
jects which  so  engross  his  cares,  and  fever  his  exist- 
ence. It  is  densely  shaded  with  the  cypress — that 
appropriate  and  beautiful  tree,  whicli  appears  to  have 
been  given  to  guard  the  tomb,  and  furnish,  in  its  un- 
fading verdure,  a  tjqje  of  our  immortality. 


294:  SHIP   A^D   SHOEE. 


The  sepulchral  monument  is  a  simple  column  of 
white  marble,  surmounted  with  a  tastefully  sculptured 
turban,  and  bearing  frequently  a  brief  sentence  from 
the  Koran.  iSTo  titles  are  recorded,  no  virtues  pro- 
claimed ;  it  is  what  it  should  be,  a  touching  memo- 
rial of  our  own  frailty.  ISTo  one  can  linger  here 
through  a  still  summer's  evening — the  soft  wind 
sighing  through  the  branches  of  the  cypress — the 
moonlight  touching  the  marbles  of  the  dead — the 
wave  of  the  bay  dying  with  a  melancholy  murmur  on 
the  shore — without  departing  the  wiser  and  better. 

Standing  here  at  this  hushed  hour  of  even  with 
these  memorials,  and  dying  whispers  of  nature  around 
me,  the  world,  with  its  strife,  and  pride,  and  noisy 
pleasures,  appeared  but  as  the  vanishing  away  of 
some  troubled  dream.  "Would  that  the  years  which 
remain  might  partake  of  the  spirit  of  this  scene. 
"Why  should  life  be  exhausted  in  pursuit  of  that  which 
is  so  soon  to  convince  us  that  it  is  only  shadow ! 

Sweet  Star ! — I  do  invoke  thy  power 
To  soothe  and  lighten  my  distress : 
O  let  thy  tranquilizing  beam 
Pervade  this  agitated  breast ; 
And  let  me  be  what  thou  dost  seem — 
A  sinless  spirit  of  the  blest. 

For  I  am  weary  of  this  shroud, 
This  mortal  shroud  of  guilt  and  pain — 
Where  every  hope  seems  doubly  bowed, 
Beneath  an  unrelenting  chain. 


ARMENIAN   BURIAL-GROUND.  295 

When  shall  my  spirit  leave  its  clay. 
Refined  from  all  the  dross  of  earth, 
And  fit  to  dwell  in  that  pure  ray. 
Wherein,  sweet  Star,  thou  hadst  thy  birth  ? 

I  know  the  night  is  waning  fast. 
But  linger  still,  sweet  one,  with  me, 
And  hear  this  once,  as  oft  thou  hast, 
My  early  orison  to  thee : 
O  break  this  dark  distempered  dream — 
This  unavailing  search  for  rest — 
And  let  me  be  what  thou  dost  seem — 
A  sinless  spirit  of  the  blest. 

The  burial-gi'oimd  of  the  Armenian,  like  that  of  the 
Moslem,  removed  a  short  distance  from  the  to-«m, 
and  sprinkled  with  green  trees,  is  a  favorite  resort 
not  onlj  for  the  bereaved,  but  those  whose  feelings 
are  not  thus  darkly  overcast.  I  met  there  one  morn- 
ing a  little  girl  with  a  half-playful  countenance,  busy 
blue  eye,  and  sunny  locks,  bearing  in  one  hand  a 
small  cup  of  china,  and  in  the  other  a  wreath  of  fresh 
flowers. 

Feeling  a  very  natural  curiosity  to  know  what  she 
could  do  with  these  bright  things  in  a  place  that 
seemed  to  partake  so  much  of  sadness,  I  watched  her 
light  motions.  Reaching  a  retired  grave,  covered 
with  a  plain  marble  slab,  she  emptied  the  seed — 
which  it  appeared  the  cup  contained — into  the  slight 
cavities  which  had  been  scooped  out  in  the  corners 
of  the  tablet,  and  laid  the  wreath  on  its  pure  face. 


296  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


"  And  why,"  I  inquired,  "  my  sweet  girl,  do  you  put 
the  seed  in  those  little  bowls  there ?"  "It  is  to  bring 
the  birds  here,"  she  replied,  with  a  half- wondering 
look — "  they  will  light  on  this  tree,"  pointing  to  the 
cypress  above,  "  when  they  have  eaten  the  seed,  and 
sing."  "  To  whom  do  they  sing  ?"  I  asked — "  to 
each  other  ? — to  you?"  "  Oh  no,"  she  quickly  replied 
— "  to  my  sister  :  she  lies  there."  "  But  your  sister 
is  dead  ?"  "  Oh  yes,  sir ;  but  she  hears  all  the  birds 
sing."  "  Well,  if  she  hears  the  birds  sing,  she  cannot 
see  that  wreath  of  flowers  ?"  "  But  she  knows  I  i>ut 
it  there  :  I  told  her,  before  they  took  her  away  from 
our  house,  I  would  come  and  see  her  every  morning." 
"  You  must,"  I  continued,  "  have  loved  that  sister 
very  much  ;  but  you  will  never  talk  with  her  any 
more,  never  see  her  again."  "  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied, 
with  a  brightened  look,  "  I  shall  see  her  always  in 
heaven."  "  But  she  has  gone  there  already,  I  hope." 
"  No ;  she  stops  under  this  tree  till  they  bring  me 
here,  and  then  we  are  going  to  heaven  together." 
"  But  she  is  gone  already,  my  child  :  you  will  meet 
her  there,  I  trust ;  but  certainly  she  is  gone,  and  left 
you  to  come  afterwards."  She  looked  at  me — her 
eyes  began  to  swim — I  could  have  clasped  her  to  my 
heart. 


Come  here,  my  sweet  one — ^be  it  so, 
That  'neath  this  cypress-tree 

Thy  sister  sees  those  eyes  o'erflow, 
And  fondly  waits  for  thee; — 


RELIGIOUS   SECTS.  291 


That  still  she  hears  the  young  birds  sing, 

And  feels  the  chajjlet's  bloom — 
Which  every  morn  thy  light  hands  bring, 

To  dress  her  early  tomb. 

And  when  they  bring  thee  where  she  lies. 

To  share  her  narrow  rest — 
Like  sister  seraphs,  may  ye  rise 

To  join  the  bright  and  blest. 

The  mosques,  synagogues,  and  churches  of  Smyrna 
are  very  numerous,  but  without  any  architectural 
pretensions.  In  the  first,  the  Mussulman,  after  hav- 
ing performed  his  ablutions,  lays  aside  his  slippers, 
and  bows  himself  with  an  air  of  profund  veneration 
towards  Mecca.  In  the  second,  the  Jew  chants  with 
a  deep  and  solemn  tone  his  Hebraic  harmonies,  and 
kneels  with  mournful  confidence  towards  Jerusalem. 
In  the  last,  the  Greek  crosses  himself,  and  looks  with 
penitential  solicitude  to  his  patron  saint,  to  the  blessed 
Virgin,  or  to  that  great  Spirit,  the  universality  of 
whose  presence  none  can  escape. 

In  neither  sect  is  there  much  tolerance  towards 
apostates  from  their  faith.  The  follower  of  Moham- 
med, who  deserts  his  faith,  loses  his  head ;  the  de- 
luded child  of  Abraham,  who  ceases  to  expect  the 
promised  Messiah,  goes  to  the  bastinado  or  the  dun- 
geon; and  the  unreflecting  Greek,  who  may  assume 
the  turban,  or  turn  away  from  the  altar  of  the  Ma- 
donna, forfeits  the  friendship  of  his  relatives,  and 

secures  the  scorn  of  his  foes. 

13* 


298  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


A  convert  from  either  sect  is  looked  upon  by  liis 
brethren  as  an  apostate  from  truth,  hope,  and  heaven. 
He  has  no  safety  or  repose,  but  in  an  escape  to  other 
lands,  where  the  rights  of  conscience  are  recognized 
and  respected.  Yet,  while  this  immingled  hatred 
and  cruelty  are  visited  upon  apostacy,  these  different 
sects  manifest  towards  each  other,  in  their  collective 
capacities,  a  forbearance  and  civility  that  is  truly 
commendable.  Their  indignation  appears  to  light 
simply  on  those  who  have  swerved  from  their  own 
feith. 

The  Turk,  while  he  beheads  his  brother,  who  may 
have  ceased  to  call  on  the  Prophet,  has  apparently 
no  objection  that  the  Jew  should  still  expect  his  de- 
liverer, or  that  the  Greek  should  still  cross  himself  at 
the  shrine  of  his  saint.  His  tolerance  flows  not  so 
much  from  that  charity  which  "  suffereth  long,  think- 
eth  no  evil,  and  is  not  easily  provoked,"  as  from  a 
deep  and  settled  contempt  for  the  short-sighted  beings 
who  may  differ  from  him  in  their  religious  creed. 
He  looks  n]3on  the  Koran  as  such  a  splendid  and  well- 
authenticated  revelation,  that  a  man  who  can  refuse 
it  his  belief,  and  forego  the  pleasures  which  it  prom- 
ises, evinces,  in  his  estimation,  a  stupidity  and  dog- 
ged obstinacy  of  character,  which  forfeits  him  all 
claim  to  consideration.  He  would  seemingly  regard 
it  as  a  degradation  in  him  to  make  a  ^^roselyte  of  such 
an  incorrigible,  miserable  being. 

Yet,  in  secular  affairs,  in  business,  in  trade,  the 


GOVEENOR   OF   SMYRNA.  299 

Tui'k  meets  you  with  a  civilitj,  frankness,  and  honesty, 
which  jou  are  disposed  to  construe  into  a  compliment- 
ary confidence  and  respect.  But  this  is  his  natm'e, — 
he  would  be  the  same  were  he  purchasing  shells  of  a 
Hottentot,  or  furs  of  a  Siberian  savage.  His  respect- 
ful demeanor  flows  from  an  innate  pride  and  dignity 
of  spirit,  and  not  from  the  suggestions  of  any  flatter- 
ing regard  for  you.  He  is  above  a  mean  trick — 
though  unequalled  in  that  duplicity  of  character  which 
Joab  revealed  in  taking  his  friend  Amasa  by  the 
beard,  kissing  him,  and  ending  the  fraternal  embrace 
by  stabbing  him  under  the  fifth  rib. 

The  most  extensive  and  sumptuous  edifice  in 
Smyrna  is  the  palace  of  the  Musselim,  or  Governor. 
It  is  pleasantly  situated  near  the  harbor,  in  the  south- 
ern section  of  the  city,  and  is  surrounded  by  an  ex- 
tensive garden.  Our  consul,  Mr.  Ofley,  with  Captain 
Read,  and  the  officers  of  the  Constellation,  called  on 
his  Excellency,  in  accordance  with  an  appointment 
previously  arranged.  Passing  a  mounted  guard  in 
the  com-t,  and  ascending  a  broad  flight  of  plain  stairs, 
we  were  ushered  into  an  extensive  skloon,  sm-rounded 
by  a  rich  ottoman,  in  which  the  Governor  was  seated, 
with  his  feet  drawn  under  him,  in  the  time  turco 
modo. 

He  received  us  with  a  courtly  ease,  and  gratifying 
familiarity  of  manner ;  and  immediately  on  our  being 
seated,  commenced  a  scattering  series  of  questions, 
in  which  he  betrayed  both  ignorance  and  shrewdness. 


800  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


His  mind  ran  incessantly  from  one  topic  to  another, 
like  a  fox  first  confined  to  the  grated  ajoertures  of  his 
cage.  Whatever  the  answer  might  be  to  any  ques- 
tion, it  appeared  to  excite  little  surprise,  and  some- 
times he  would  cut  it  oft",  by  putting  another  so  foreign 
to  the  last,  that  the  contrast  would  force  an  involun- 
tary smile. 

His  questions  were  sometimes  involved  in  a  little 
mist,  but  they  generally  reached  their  most  remote 
object  with  singular  directness  and  celerity.  The 
moment  he  spoke,  his  countenance  lighted  up  as  if 
some  new  thought  had  suddenly  flashed  on  his  spirit ; 
and  then  again  it  would  as  instantaneously  subside 
into  its  customary  good-humored  apathy. 

He  appeared  to  be  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  to 
possess  a  constitution  impaired  by  anxiety  and  seden- 
tary habits.  His  dress  was  a  red  velvet  cap,  with  a 
rich  blue  tassel  depending  from  the  centre  of  the 
crown — a  loose  robe  of  the  glossy  angora — with  full 
trowsers,  and  close  vest  of  the  same  light  and  elegant 
material.  His  slippers  were  not  seen,  his  feet  being 
drawn  up  under  him  on  the  sofa,  where  he  sat  with  a 
greater  ease  of  attitude  than  I  ever  saw  assumed  on 
chair  or  tripod. 

"We  had  not  been  long  seated  when  fifteen  or  twenty 
handsomely  attired  attendants  entered  with  hands 
crossed  in  front,  in  token  of  submission ;  and  each 
bearing  a  pipe,  which  he  presented  to  us  in  a  kneel- 
ing posture.     The  stems  of  these  narcotic  auxiliaries 


PIPES   AND   COFFEE.  301 

of  Turkish  luxury  were  of  the  native  cherry,  elegantly 
slender,  and  seven  or  eight  feet  in  length,  with  a  bowl 
of  argillaceous  substance,  and  a  long  mouth-piece  of 
pure  amber.  One  end  rested  on  a  silver  plate  near 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  the  other  it  was  expected 
you  would  place  to  your  lips  with  delighted  suction. 
He  that  never  smoked  before  with  such  a  pipe  as  this, 
would  be  excused  if  he  began  the  giddy  experiment. 
The  first  sensations  of  love,  with  the  dilating  heart 
and  mysterious  sympathy,  could  not  be  more  sweet 
and  inexjDlicably  delightful,  than  the  soft  vapors  of 
this  aromatic  plant,  winding  along  through  the  cool 
and  polished  tube,  and  finally  flowing  through  amber, 
into  the  mouth.  Cynics  and  quacks  may  prattle  as 
much  as  they  please  against  the  pipe,  yet  no  man 
who  wishes  to  be  soothed  when  he  is  weary,  or  ex- 
hilarated when  he  is  depressed,  will  decline  the  Turk- 
ish chibouque. 

Thy  quiet  spirit  lulls  the  laboring  brain, 

Lures  back  to  thought  the  flights  of  vacant  mirth  ; 

Consoles  the  mourner,  soothes  the  couch  of  pain, 
And  breathes  contentment  round  the  humble  hearth ; 

While  savage  w^arriors,  softened  by  thy  breath, 

Unbind  the  captive  hate  had  doomed  to  death. 

Thy  vapor  bathes  the  CafFre's  sooty  walls, 
And  fills  the  mighty  Czar's  imperial  dome; 

Rolls  through  Byzantine's  oriental  halls. 
And  floats  around  the  Arab's  tented  dome ; 

Melts  o'er  the  anchorite's  repentant  meal. 

And  shades  the  lightning  of  the  Tartar's  steel. 


303  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


While  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  the  precious  weed, 
the  attendant  kneeled  before  each  with  a  few  sips  of 
coffee,  in  an  extremely  small  and  elegant  cup  of 
china,  resting  in  a  delicate  stand  of  filigreed  gold. 
It  was  taken  without  sugar  or  cream,  and  though  but 
a  swallow  in  quantity,  it  contained  more  of  the  real 
juice  of  the  Moca-berry,  than  is  usually  found  in  our 
cups  of  much  more  promising  dimensions.  Coffee 
with  us  is  frequently  about  as  strongly  impregnated 
with  the  berry,  as  the  passing  stream  in  which  the 
native  plant  may  happen  to  cast  its  shadow. 

After  having  our  j^ipes  several  times  replaced  by 
fresh  ones,  and  filling  the  saloon  with  a  cloud  of 
floating  fragrance,  and  drinking  a  glass  of  cool  sher- 
bet, and  touching  on  all  topics  within  the  ranging 
imagination  of  the  Musselim,  we  were  to  depart, 
when  his  Excellency  informed  us  that  his  horses  had 
been  brought  into  the  green,  and  the  troops  of  the 
garrison  paraded  for  our  inspection,  and  he  might 
have  added — for  the  gratification  of  his  own  j^ride. 

We  found  the  horses  well  worthy  of  their  princely 
master — plump,  smooth,  and  playful — full  of  energy 
and  fire,  yet  submissive  to  the  bit — and  prancing 
under  their  riders  as  if  motion  were  a  new,  delightful 
sensation.  Several  of  them  were  of  the  Arabian 
blood,  with  small  muscular  limbs — graceful  and  ath- 
letic conformation,  with  a  flowing  mane,  free  nostril, 
bright  eye,  and  a  cmwed  neck,  in  which  the  very  thun- 
der seemed  to  lurk. 


TURK:    AND   HIS   STEED.  803 

The  Mussulman  preserves  his  steed  unmaimed  and 
entire,  just  as  nature  formed  him,  and  bestows  upon 
him  the  most  kind  and  constant  attentions  ;  and  not 
■without  just  reason,  for  a  Turk  without  his  horse 
W' ould  be  almost  as  deplorably  conditioned  as  a  Catho- 
lic without  his  beads.  The  one  would  give  up  all 
hope  of  seeing  his  nearest  neighbor,  and  the  other  of 
reaching  heaven. 

K  a  man  proposes  running  awaj  with  a  horse  at 
the  risk  of  being  hung  or  decapitated,  I  should  advise 
him  to  take  the  Arabian ;  for  in  the  first  place,  he 
could  not  be  overtaken  except  on  a  steed  of  equally 
astonishing  fleetness  ;  and  in  the  next  place,  if  over- 
taken and  bow-strung,  or  made  to  swing  so  very 
awkwardly  from  the  ground,  he  will  have  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  he  forfeited  his  life  in  an 
effort  to  avail  himself  of  the  noblest  animal  on  earth. 
Still  I  would  not,  in  this  world  of  stern  law  and  un- 
forgiving justice,  advocate  even  this  kind  of  magni- 
ficent plunder,  for  there  is  no  romance  in  the  gallows 
— no  racing  or  riding  in  the  grave. 

I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  in  favor  of  the  Gover- 
nor's troops  as  his  steeds — for  a  more  unsoldierlike 
body  of  men  I  never  saw  under  arms.  They  re- 
minded me  of  one  of  our  backwoods  militia  trainings, 
where  no  two  have  coats  or  corn-stalks  alike.  The 
apology  given  for  their  appearance  was,  that  they 
had  just  been  driven  in  from  the  country. 

The  mode  of  raising  recruits  here,  exhibits  the  true 


304  SHIP   AJSTD   SHORE. 


genius  of  the  Ottoman  government ;  it  is  to  send  out 
a  force  sufficient  to  reconnoitre  all  the  small  villages, 
— where  the  youth,  who  cannot  make  their  escape,  are 
seized,  tied  together,  and  driven  into  the  encamp- 
ment, to  fight,  nolens  aut  volens.  If  they  show  a 
disposition  to  desert,  they  are  pretty  sure  to  be  shot, 
or  bastinadoed  to  death ;  and  if  they  remain,  their 
fate  may  be  more  slow,  but  it  will  come  with  equal 
suffering  and  certainty,  in  the  charge  of  the  enemy, 
the  destructiveness  of  the  plague,  or  the  tyrannical 
authority  and  merciless  inconsideration  of  their  com- 
manders. 

Let  those  who  would  dissolve  our  Union,  and  ren- 
der us  in  our  scattered  strength  the  prey  of  foreign 
avarice  and  power,  look  here  and  see  what  the  loss 
of  liberty  really  is,  and  take  a  lesson  of  wholesome 
admonition.  These  poor  fellows  have  been  wrenched 
away  from  their  parents  and  homes,  chained  together 
as  culprits,  driven  over  parching  sands  to  this  gar- 
rison, and  are  now,  in  a  few  days  to  be  marched  oif 
under  their  arms,  with  a  prospect  of  a  mere  precari- 
ous subsistence,  into  the  burning  plains  of  Syria, 
there  to  perish  in  battle,  or  wither  away  with  fatigue 
and  famine. 

But  whether  the  sands  of  the  desert,  or  the  field  of 
blood  be  their  grave,  their  homes  will  know  them  no 
more  !  They  have  left  forever  behind  them  all  that 
the  earth  holds  dear.  The  most  foolish  and  frantic 
disimionist  in  our  country  who  can  look  at  tliis,  and 


CASTLE    OF   MOUNT   PAGUS.  305 


not  feel  compunctious  of  shame,  and  devote  himself 
anew  to  the  great  cause  of  united  liberty,  is  unworthy 
of  the  age  in  which  he  lives,  and  of  the  country  that 
has  given  him  bii'th. 

But  to  return  to  Smyrna.  Through  the  southern 
section  of  the  city  swells  a  very  high  hill,  command- 
ing a  wide  range  of  land  and  water,  and  bearing  the 
name  of  Mount  Pagus.  It  is  surmounted  by  a  Geno- 
ese castle,  reared  on  the  huge  foundations  of  one  con- 
structed by  Alexander  the  Great.  The  castle  is  now 
unfortified,  and  has  only  the  frowning  aspect  of  its 
gigantic  proportions  to  strengthen  its  friends,  or  in- 
timidate its  foes. 

In  our  ascent  to  the  castle,  we  passed  over  the 
obliterated  foundations  of  the  amphitheatre,  where 
Polycarp  was  martyred  amid  thousands  who  had  as- 
sembled to  wonder  at  his  fanatical  fortitude,  or  jeer 
his  recanting  timidity.  But  that  great  apostle  of 
truth  felt  too  deeply  the  responsibility  of  his  situation, 
to  consult  the  weaker  impulses  of  his  nature.  He 
had  heard  the  warning  voice  of  the  Son  of  God, 
calling  to  him,  through  the  sainted  exile  of  Patmos, 
as  the  angel  of  the  church  of  Smyrna,  to  be  "  faith- 
ful unto  death  ;"  he  stood  untremblingly  true  to  the 
confidence  with  which  he  had  been  divinely  honored ; 
and  passed  from  the  sorrows  and  agonies  of  martyr- 
dom, to  receive  the  promised  "  crown  of  life." 

His  devoted  example  inspired  hundreds  with  kin- 
dred emotions, — it  strengthened  the  weak,  decided 


300  SHIP   AND   SHORE. 


the  doubting,  and  confirmed  the  wavering;  it  made 
the  church  of  Smyrna  one  of  those  firm  outposts  of 
Christianity  which  no  bribes  coukl  seduce,  and  no 
terrors  or  trials  disarm.  She  stood  simple,  erect,  and 
uncompromising — ^leaning  upon  an  unshaken  faith  in 
the  promises  of  her  Redeemer,  and  looking  forward  to 
the  day  of  her  deliverance  and  triumph.  That  day 
came,  and  the  humble  cause  which  she  had  espoused, 
sweeping  away  the  altars  and  fanes  of  idolatry,  en- 
throned itself  upon  the  affections  and  confidence  of 
the  civilized  world. 

From  the  battlements  of  the  castle  we  could  trace 
the  Meles,  %vinding  through  its  fertile  valley,  and 
mingling  its  waters  with  the  broad  wave  of  the  bay. 
We  wandered  down  to  the  bank  of  this  classic  stream, 
and  lingered  around  the  green  spot,  which,  it  is  con- 
tended, was  the  birth-place  of  Homer.  The  young, 
beautiful,  and  unfortunate  Critheis — if  the  story  be 
as  true  as  it  is  full  of  scandal — fled  to  this  secluded 
shade  to  escape  the  exposure  and  shame  of  becoming 
a  mother ;  little  thinking,  in  her  solitude  and  anguish, 
that  the  offspring  of  her  erring  fondness  was  to  string 
a  lyre  to  which  the  whole  earth  would  listen. 

She  sunk  to  an  early  grave,  and  left  her  boy,  as 
most  do  who  thus  err,  to  wander  destitute  and  for- 
saken. But  nature  was  not  denied  him, — he  strayed 
among  her  founts  and  flowers,  visited  her  recesses  of 
deeper  beauty,  listened  to  the  tone  of  her  thousand 
voices,  caught  the  spirit  that  quickens  through  her 


VIEW   OF  THE   TOWN,  307 

mysterious  frame,  and  pom-ccl  forth  his  exulting  sen- 
sations in  a  tide  of  imperishable  song.  Though  un- 
known, except  in  his  numbers,  he  has  charmed  the 
world  into  an  immortal  remembrance  and  aflection. 
The  posterity  of  those  who  left  him  to  famish  and 
die,  have  contended  for  the  honor  of  his  birth,  and 
reared  their  richest  monuments  to  his  name.  Soon 
or  late  the  claims  of  genius  must  be  acknowledged 
and  felt.  Time,  while  it  levels  all  other  distinctions, 
will  leave  untouched  those  created  by  the  mind. 

The  prayers  of  the  Mussulman  at  the  rising  and 
setting  of  the  sun,  and  at  mid-day,  never  fail  to  at- 
tract the  ear  and  eye  of  the  stranger  in  Smj^nia, 
You  hear  at  that  hour,  from  all  the  minarets  of  the 
mosques,  a  voice  uttering,  in  tones  deep  and  solemn, 
the  invocation — "  Come  to  prayer — there  is  no  God 
but  God,  and  Mahomet  is  his  prophet — come  to 
prayer — I  summon  you  with  a  clear  voice."  Tlie 
faithful  fall  on  their  knees,  and,  with  their  faces  turned 
towards  Mecca,  bow  themselves  three  times  to  the 
earth;  repeating  between  each  prostration  a  brief 
prayer ;  then  slowly  rising,  seem  to  carry  into  their 
occupation  a  portion  of  the  solemnity  which  charac- 
terizes this  scene. 

Your  impression  is,  that  the  follower  of  the  Pro- 
phet, however  erroneous  may  be  his  faith,  is  not 
ashamed  of  his  religion — that  he  is  not  the  being 
who  will  forego  his  prayers  out  of  a  shrinking,  imbe- 
coming  regard  for  the  presence  or  prejudices  of  oth- 


308  SHIP    AND   SHOKE. 


ers — and  your  respect  for  liim,  in  this  particular,  is  in 
proportion  to  bis  seeming  want  of  it  for  you.  Let 
those  who  put  away  the  good  old  family  Bible  on 
some  unseen  shelf,  and  who  go  to  bed  at  night  with- 
out their  domestic  devotions — if  a  stranger  be  pres- 
ent— take  a  hint  from  the  Mussulman. 

The  most  silent  spot  in  Smyrna  is  that  which  you 
would  expect  to  find  the  most  noisy ;  that  is,  the 
cafenet,  or  hotel.  You  will  find  liere  at  every  hour 
of  the  day  thirty  or  forty  Turks,  seated  under  the 
trees  which  deeply  shade  the  court — now  and  then 
giving  a  long  whiff,  and  relieving  the  intervals  by  a 
sip  of  coifee,  which  atones  for  the  absence  of  cream 
and  sugar  in  its  strength.  All  this  while  not  a  word 
is  spoken  ;  not  a  sound  is  heard,  save  that  of  the  lit- 
tle fountain,  and  even  this,  in  the  faint  lapse  of  its 
notes,  seems  falling  asleep.  On  one  occasion,  and 
but  one,  I  saw  this  silence  broken  up. 

I  had  observed  two  Turks,  seated  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  court,  casting  at  each  other,  between  their 
whiffs,  looks  of  rather  a  menacing  character.  No 
words,  however,  passed — no  inimical  motions  were 
made — nothing  indicated  anger,  except  the  occasional 
scorching  glance  of  a  deep,  black  eye ;  when,  sud- 
denly dropping  their  pipes,  they  sprang  at  the  same 
instant  upon  their  feet,  and  discharged  their  pistols  : 
but  neither  took  effect.  I  expected  to  see  them  rush 
at  each  other  with  a  plunging  yatagan  ;  but  what 
was  my  surprise,  when  I  saw  each  leisurely  return 


VICINITY    OF   SMYRNA,  309 


his  i^istol  to  liis  belt,  aucl  resume  his  seat  as  com- 
posedl  V  as  if  he  had  merely  risen  to  pluck  the  orange 
that  depended  from  the  branch  over  his  head. 

The  company,  so  far  from  being  thrown  into  con- 
fusion and  uproar,  continued  silently  to  smoke  their 
pipes  ;  the  affair  appeared  not  to  furnish  a  topic  of 
conversation  sufficiently  interesting  to  relieve  the 
silence  that  ensued.  This  feature  of  the  scene  I 
liked  ;  it  shows  that  the  Mussulman,  however  irre- 
spective he  may  be  of  other  salutary  injunctions, 
strictly  obeys  what  sailors  call  the  eleventh  command- 
ment— thou  shalt  mind  thine  own  business. 

Among  the  most  pleasant  rides  in  the  vicinity  of 
Smyrna,  is  that  to  Bournebat,  leading  through  a  suc- 
cession of  vineyards  and  olive-groves,  Avith  the  tulip 
and  ranunculus  blooming  around  in  wild  profusion. 
Tlie  village  is  ornamented  with  many  elegant  man- 
sions, belonging  to  merchants  in  Smyrna,  who  seek 
here  a  refuge  from  the  heat,  dust,  and  noise  of  the 
town.  We  were  here  introduced  into  the  summer 
residence  of  Mr.  Ofiey,  the  American  Consul,  to 
whose  influence  and  hospitable  attentions  we  were 
indebted  for  many  pleasures,  connected  with  our 
cruise  in  the  Levant.  His  agency  in  establishing 
the  relations  which  now  exist  between  us  and  the 
Ottoman  government,  entitles  him  to  the  respect  and 
gratitude  of  his  country. 

Nor  should  I  fail  to  mention  here  the  many  tokens 
of  assiduous  kindness  which  we  received  from  our 


310  SHIP    AND   SHORE, 

worthy  countrymen,  Messrs.  Clark  and  Stith,  incv- 
cliants  of  a  character  and  standing  that  do  honor  to 
America.  ISTor  should  I  pass  by  the  cheerful  hearth 
and  benevolent  efforts  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brewer.  His 
schools  are  diffusing  a  spirit  of  intelligence  and  in- 
quiry among  the  Greeks,  that  will  one  day  speak  for 
itself. 

The  favorable  position  of  Smyrna  for  commerce, 
is  the  main  source  of  its  wealth  and  political  impor- 
tance. It  has  been  successively  plundered  by  the 
enemy,  overthrown  by  the  earthquake,  depopulated 
by  the  plague,  and  consumed  by  the  flame  ;  but  it 
has  risen  again  to  increased  opulence  and  power,  on 
the  force  of  its  commercial  advantages. 

Alexander  manifested  his  extraordinary  shrewd- 
ness and  judgment  in  its  location.  It  would  seem  as 
if  he  intended  to  found  a  city  that  should  survive 
all  the  hostile  agents  by  which  it  could,  in  any  pos- 
sible event,  be  assailed.  It  has  been  for  centuries 
without  fortress  or  wall ;  and  though  often  reduced, 
in  its  sad  vicissitudes,  to  a  ruin  and  a  tomb,  yet  it 
now  embraces  the  most  dense  and  thriving  popula- 
tion within  the  wide  dominion  of  the  Porte. 

The  female  beauty  which  once  brought  to  it  the 
sculptor  and  painter  for  originals,  may  in  some  mea- 
sure have  disappeared ;  but  its  commercial  facilities 
have  assembled  within  it,  from  the  most  distant 
realms,  another  class  of  beings,  whose  enterprise  con- 
tributes vastly  more  to  its  wealth  and  prosperity.     It 


PAIiTING    \VITI1    THE   EKADER.  311 

may  look  with  composure  at  its  temporary  misfor- 
tunes, for  it  must  stand  and  thrive,  so  long  as  the 
caravans  of  Persia  can  move,  the  vintage  of  the  teem- 
ing year  come  round,  and  the  ship  hold  its  course 
over  the  deep. 

Nor  need  anv  be  deterred  from  a  residence  here 
by  apprehensions  of  Turkish  treachery  and  violence. 
The  authority  recognized  in  a  Consular  representa- 
tive is  nowhere  held  more  sacred  and  inviolable. 
Heads  may  fall  like  rain-drops  from  an  April  cloud, 
but  beneath  the  flag  of  his  country  the  foreigner  is 
safe.  It  is  an  segis  which  the  most  profane  weapon 
of  the  Mussulman  dares  not  touch. 

And  now,  reader,  I  must  bid  you  adieu.  But  if 
you  have  not  been  too  much  offended  with  some  of 
my  hasty  expressions,  if  you  have  been  amused  by 
the  light  incidents  of  my  story,  if  over  its  simple 
pages  your  hours  have  passed  with  a  less  percepti- 
ble weight,  meet  me  here  again.  That  brilliant 
barge  which  rocks  so  lightly  on  the  wave  of  this  Bay 
is  to  take  me  and  others  to  the  strand  of  Ilium. 

Join  our  company,  willing  to  be  pleased,  and 
I  will  show  you  the  palace  of  Priam,  Achilles' 
tomb,  and  Helen's  gushing  fount.  We  will  then 
pass  up  between  the  wildly  wooded  shores  of  the 
Dardanelles,  on  to  the  bright  bosom  of  the  Marmora, 
and  watch  the  city  of  Constantine,  emerging  in 
splendor  from  the  wave.  Glancing  at  its  domes  and 
its  delicate  minarets,  we  will  wind  our  way  up  the 


312  SHIP    AND   SHORE. 


Golden  Horn  into  the  valley  of  Sweet  Waters ;  we 
will  stray  through  the  romantic  dells  of  Belgrade — 
along  the  beautiful  banks  of  the  Bosphorus,  catch  the 
traits  of  those  who  dwell  there  in  oriental  gayety,  and 
returning,  moimt  again  to  the  deck  of  our  ship,  sail 
to  the  purple  shores  of  Greece,  walk  around  among 
the  magnificent  ruins  of  Athens,  and  visit  the  sweet 
isles  of  the  ^sfean. 

All  this  I  promise  you,  if  you  will  accord  me  your 
company,  and  then  you  will  find  me  more  attentive 
than  I  have  been — less  forgetful  of  your  tastes,  and 
less  captious  under  my  own  slight  provocations. 

But  before  we  part,  come  with  me  down  to  the 
beach  of  this  moon-lit  bay,  for  at  this  still  hour  of  the 
evening  we  have  nothing  to  fear — nothing  can  break 
on  our  solitude — and  let  me  tell  you  here,  under  the 
light  of  these  sweet  stars,  what  I  love. 

I  love  to  waiider  on  the  shore  of  ocean, 

To  hear  the  light  wave  ripple  on  the  beach ; 

For  there's  a  music  in  their  murm'ring  motion, 
The  softest  sounds  of  earth  could  never  reach — 

A  cadence  breathing  more  of  joy  than  plaint, 

Like  the  last  whispers  of  a  dying  saint, 

I  love  to  wander,  on  a  star-lit  night, 

Along  the  breathing  margin  of  a  lake. 
Whose  tranquil  bosom  mirrors  to  the  sight 

The  dewy  stars ;  where  not  a  wave  nor  wake 
Disturbs  the  slumbering  surface,  nor  a  sound 
Is  heard  from  out  the  deep-hushed  forest  round. 


PA:RTI]SrG    WITH    THE   READER.  313 

The  vesper-star  sleeps  in  that  silent  water,  , 

So  sweetly  fair,  so  tenderly  serene, 
You  fondly  think  it  is  the  bright-eyed  daughter 

Of  that  pure  element,  and,  breathless,  lean 
To  catch  its  beauty,  as  if  bent  above 
The  face  of  one  you  only  live  to  love. 


THE    END. 


IN    PRESS, 

■WEITINGS    OF    THE    REV.    WALTER    COLTON. 


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London  Athenaum. 


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and  health  at  home,  feel  its  influence  quite  enough  to  devour  every  thing  that  relates  to 
it.  This  work  is  by  far  the  most  methodical,  satisfactory,  and  graphic  description  of 
El  Dorado,  and  the  way  thither,  that  has  yet  appealed.  Mr.  Colton  will  be  remem- 
bered by  those  who  read  his  admirable  '  Ship  and  Shore'  as  a  most  lively,  humorous, 
and  sketchy  writer ;  and  his  best  qualities  are  brought  into  play  in  this  work.  The 
amount  of  valuable  information  on  which  his  pleasant  sketches  are  based,  is  veiy 
great.  The  value  of  the  book  is  also  greatly  increased  by  the  illustrations  it  contain*. 
There  aie  a  large  number  of  sketches  of  scenes  and  places,  di'awn  by  Blr.  Colton, 
beautifully  engraved,  and  printed  in  colors,  which  are  fine  works  of  art,  and  give  a 
vivid  idea  of  the  places  visited.  It  is  a  work  whose  literary  merit,  attractive  form, 
and  most  interesting  matter,  will  make  it  highly  popular." — .,V.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"This  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most  interesting  books  that  has  been  issued  from 
the  American  press  the  present  year.  We  have  never  read  a  book  that  pleased  us 
more.  Possessing  a  brUliaut  imagination,  the  authoi'  has  painted,  in  glowing  colors,  a 
thousand  pictui'es  of  the  sea,  night  and  storm,  sunshine  and  calm.  Every  page  is  full 
of  glowing  thoughts,  sublime  truths,  pure  morals,  and  beautiful  aphorisms.  It  is  a 
book  that  will  never  be  out  of  date — it  is  a  gem  that  will  Ijecome  brighter  every  day. 
We  predict  that  this  volume  will  iim  through  several  editions." — Pittsburg  Morning 
Post. 

"  This  work  is  published  in  a  beautiful  style,  and  is  ftill  of  highly  interesting  scenes 
and  incidents,  detailed  by  a  master  hand.  It  has  been  seldom  that  we  have  found  a 
work  more  instructive,  and  at  the  same  time  so  interesting  as  the  one  before  us.  To 
say  any  thing  in  praise  of  the  author,  would  be  useless.  His  fame  is  so  well  settled,  that 
our  opinion  could  neither  raise  it  higher  nor  detract  from  its  merits. 

"  Every  thing  related,  is  clothed  in  the  rich  garniture  which  is  Rfforded  by  a  well 
stored  and  well  cultivated  mind,  governed  by  high  moral  principle.  The  whole 
tenor  of  the  work,  while  it  aims  at  instnictive  nanation,  is  also  calculated  to  impress 
upon  the  mind  pure  and  elevated  ideas,  both  of  men  and  things. 

"We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  to  all  who  want  a  ^ood,  uic/ji/,  and  interesting 
book,  that  they  cannot  do  better  than  to  secme  a  copy  of  this.  It  will  richly  repay  a 
perusal." — MassUlon  JVcws. 

"  His  pen  has  the  wand-like  power  of  making  the  scenes  which  it  describes  live  and 
move  before  the  mind  of  the  reader.  We  can  cheerfully  recommend  this  aa  a  chana- 
lug  book,  full  of  informatioa  aud  entertainment."— i^art/m-t/  Chfittien  Secretary. 


A.  S.   BARNES  i  COMPANY  S  PUBLICATIONS, 
C o  1 1 0  7i' s  D eck   and    Port. 

"This  volume,  by  the  author  of  'Ship  and  Shore,'  is  full  of  racy  and  original  thoughts, 
clothed  in  language  remarkable  for  its  elegance  and  strength.  The  author  has  long 
been  a  wanderer  over  sea  and  land,  and  has  noted,  with  a  searching  eye.  the  atrilvitig 
traits  and  usages  of  different  nations.  Tliese  he  throws  into  a  sketch,  with  that  vivid 
light  and  sliade  which  transport  the  scene  almost  palpably  before  your  eyes.  He 
knows  the  sailor  thoroughly,  and  lets  you  into  all  the  subtle  springs  of  action  which 
sway  that  generous  and  reckless  being.— Skilled  in  prose,  the  author  is  yet  in  heart 
and  soul  a  poet,  and  looks  on  nature  with  a  jioet's  eye.  The  snatches  of  faultless  verse 
which  he  has  occasionally  introduced  into  his  pages,  will  arrest  the  attention  of  the 
reader.  His  wit,  which  sparkles  out  here  and  there,  is  free  of  all  bitterness.  His  senti- 
ments !u-e  expressed  witli  frankness,  finnness,  and  a  self-relying  spirit.  The  volume, 
graceful  in  itself,  is  ornamented  with  a  striking  portrait  of  Commodore  Stockton, 
and  with  spirited  prints  of  ])laces  and  costumes  described  in  its  pages." — JVational 
Inteliigcncer. 

"Those  who  want  something  fresh  and  interesting;  something  that  will  amuse  and 
instruct  at  the  same  time,  without  being  dull  or  wearisome — will  lind  what  they  seek 
in  this  elegantly  written  and  equally  elegantly  pi-intcd  volume.  The  author  possesses 
in  an  eminent  degree  the  happy  faculty  of  seizing  on  the  most  interesting  occurrences, 
and  di-awing  from  them  appropriate  reflections  on  the  general  duties  of  life.  He  never 
misses  an  opportunity  to  teach  a  lesson,  yet  he  never  seems  to  seek  for  one." — Niasara 
Democrat. 

"  The  contents,  in  a  journal  form,  are  full  of  lively  incidents,  written  in  a  very  pleasing 
style,  and  on  the  whole  are  so  interesting,  that  one  is  very  reluctant  to  lay  the  volume 
down.  Few  works  of  fiction  could  be  more  attractive  in  any  respect.  We  doubt  not 
(hat  'Deck  and  Port'  will  have  a  wide  circulation." — JVeu?  Haven  Palladium. 

"An  agreeable  diary  of  a  voyage  round  'the  Horn,'  in  a  man-of-war,  by  a  Christian 
scholar  and  gentleman.  We  have  seldom  met  with  a  book  of  travel  so  free  from  fuss 
and  pretence.  The  note-worthy  incidents  of  life  at  sea  are  jotted  down,  apparently  as 
they  rise,  from  day  to  day.  In  easy,  natiu-al  prose,  so  that  the  reader  soon  feels  himself 
quite  at  home  on  board  a  man-ol-wai-,  enjoyuig  its  society  and  scenes,  and  participating 
in  the  humor  and  sentiments  of  its  '  floating  population.'  Sketches  ai-e  given  also  of 
the  various  ports  visited — Rio,  Valparaiso,  Lima,  Honolulu,  Monterey,  San  Fran- 
cisco, fcc;  and  graphic  illustrations  ai-e  furnished  by  the  engraver." — JVewark  Daily 
Advertiser. 

"  Wi  have  read  a  large  portion  of  this  work  with  great  interest.  It  is  written  in  a 
lively,  graphic  style  ;  and  recounts,  in  a  very  pleasing  narrative,  the  incidents  of  a  long 
and  perilous  voyage  round  Cape  Horn,  with  descriptions  of  Valparaiso,  Lima,  Callao, 
San  Francisco,  &c. ;  their  leligion,  manners,  and  customs.  This  book  is  one  of  the 
most  readable  of  the  season,  the  writer  having  attained  the  art  of  making  the  reader 
f(;el  as  though  he  were  one  of  the  party,  and  thus  interested  in  all  their"  toils,  trials, 
perils,  adventures,  amusements,  &c." — Pres.  Advoc&te. 

"Mr.  Colton  is  an  observing  and  ready  writer;  and  his  office  on  board  of  the  ship 
afforded  him  every  needed  facility  lor  obtaining  a  knowledge  of  the  character  of  the 
men  on  board,  and  of  the  multitude  of  incidents  of  every  hue  that  make  up  life  in  a 
ship.  His  is  a  free  pen,  and  he  writes  with  much  facility  of  expression  and  elegance 
of  taste;  making  one  of  the  most  agreeable  volumes  that  has  ever  been  written  with 
reference  to  that  interesting  portion  of  the  world." —  IVorccster  Palladium. 

"The  author's  situation  as  chaplain,  together  with  his  long  connection  with  the  navy, 
rendered  him  fully  competent  to  give  correct  pictures  of  sdl  we  landsmen  wish  to  know, 
while  he  excels  in  a  graphic  power  particularly  adapted  to  this  kind  of  writing.  Hif< 
style  is  light  and  sketchy,  having  the  freshness  of  a  journal  where  the  author  had  evi- 
dently each  day  dotted  down  what  most  airested  his  own  attention.  Altogether,  it  is  a 
capital  view  of  sea  life,  and  the  liveliness  of  the  style  keeps  the  interest  from  flagging 
to  the  end.     We  predict  for  it  an  extensive  circulation." — Albany  State  Register. 

"The  author's  opportunities  have  been  most  ample  for  furnishing  correct  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  the  many  interesting  and  ever-changing  scenes  that  a  person  in  the 
naval  service  is  continually  experiencing.  His  style  is  so  pointed  and  free  from  that 
monotony  which  is  too  apt  to  find  its  way  into  such  narratives,  that  we  do  not  hesitjit* 
to  predict  ft\'  the  book  in  extensive  sale." — Albany  Daily  Adoertiaer 


A.  S.  BARNES    &    COMPAKY'S    PUBLIC  A.TIONS. 
Col  ton's    Three     Years    in    Calif  or  ni  a. 


THREE    YEARS    IN    CALIFORNIA. 

BY  EEV.  WALTER  COLTOX,  U.  S.  N., 

LATE    ALCALDE    OF   MONTEREY. 

WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


*'  A  rare  work  this  for  ability,  interest.  Information,  mirth,  and  as  the  most  recent  and 
most  authentic  history  of  California,  since  it  came  under  the  American  flag.  It  con- 
tains excellent  portraits  of  Messrs.  Sutter,  liarkin,  Fremont,  Gwinn,  Wright,  and 
Snyder,  with  numerous  and  humorous  illustrations ;  a  list  of  the  members  of  the  Con- 
vention which  organized  the  State  of  California ;  a  chart  of  the  '  Declaration  of 
Rights,^  with  facsimiles  of  the  signatures,  &c.  Nothing  of  interest  to  the  public  in 
the  rapid  growth  of  this  new  world,  its  towns,  villages,  and  settlements,  its  gold  digging, 
gold  explorations,  &c.,  escapes  the  notice  of  the  author  ;  .and  the  pictures  he  has  given 
of  California  lile  and  manners  ai-e  at  the  same  time  graphic,  instructive,  and  often  in 
the  most  provoking  degree  mii'thful." — JVational  Intelligencer. 


"It  is  the  best  history  of  California  that  has  appeared,  and  will  prove  as  instructive 
aa  it  is  interesting  and  provocative  ol  mirlh."^Kuchester  Democrat. 


"This  work  is  an  authentic  history  of  California,  from  the  lime  it  came  under  the 
flag  of  the  United  States  down  to  this  present,  explorations,  new  settlements,  and  gold 
diggings.  While  the  reader  is  instructed  on  every  page,  he  will  laugh  about  a  hundred 
if  not  a  thousand  times  before  he  gets  through  this  captivating  volume,  and  though  he 
Bits  alone  in  his  chair.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  a  book  of  fact;  next  to  the  remarkable 
and  ludicrous  peculiarities  of  Calitbmia  life  and  manners,  are  an  incessant  provocation 
to  make  one  laugh  ;  and  the  author  being  a  poet,  gives  us  a  tine  relish  of  that  every 
now  aaid  then." —  Washington  Republic. 


"The  anticipations  of  those  who  expected  from  Mr.  Colton  a  book  about  California 
at  once  reliable  and  entert;iining,  compreliensive  and  concise,  instructive  and  lively — 
in  fact,  just  what  a  work  of  the  kind  ought  to  be,  but  what  a  majority  of  the  iiiimerous 
accounts  heretofore  published  are  not — will  be  abundantly  realized  on  perusal  of  this 
volume.  Mr.  Colton,  besides  possessing  the  various  qualifications  of  an  intelligent  ob- 
server— a  highly-cultivated  mind,  stored  with  ample  material  for  comi>arison,  in  the 
fruits  of  years  spent  in  travel  in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  intercourse  with  numerous 
peoples — enjoyed  peculiar  advantages  for  becoming  acquainted  with  California,  in  his 
long  residence  there ;  in  his  exalted  official  position,  which  made  him  the  associate  and 
counsellor  of  the  highest  functionaries  in  the  province  ;  in  a  philosophical  disinterested- 
ness, which,  while  it  raised  him  above  the  scramble  lor  treasure,  enabled  him  iahnly 
to  survey  the  field  ot  action,  and  describe  the  operalions  of  the  scramblers;  and, 
finally,  in  an  elevated  personal  character,  which  commanded  the  respect  and  won  the 
confidence  and  regard  of  all  classes  of  the  people." — Journal  of  Commerce. 


"  It  is  tb»  most  insUuctive  work  on  Califorma  we  have  seen." — Commercial  Mvertistf 


A.  S.  BARNES    &    COMPANY'S    PUBLICATIONS 

Col  i  on' s    Three    Years    in    C  aliforiiia. 

"  It  is  certainly  refreshing  to  find  such  a  book  as  this  one,  after  having  vainly 
BB;irche(J  for  something  authentic,  'true  to  nature,'  and  at  Ihe  same  time  readable^ 
nniong  the  thousands  which  have  been  issued  from  the  ])rolilic  press  since  the  dis- 
covery of 'EI  Dorado.'  W^e  hail  it  as  almost  as  dear  a  treasure  as  would  be  .'iie  dis- 
covery of  a  rich  'placer,'  were  we  upon  the  veritable  soil  of  California.  We  have 
Bloleu  time  during  the  past  week  to  hastily  glance  over  the  pages  of  Mr.  Colton's 
bCKjk,  and  our  oiiinion,  before  very  high,  because  of  the  encomiums  universally  bestowed 
upon  it  by  om'  contemporaries,  has  lather  been  increased,  certainly  not  diminished,  and 
we  think  a  more  careful  perusal  will  well  repay.  Our  longing  upon  this  point  has 
been  satiated,  and  we  can  sali?ly  say  that  we  have  gained  more  of  a  knowledge  oi 
California,  as  it  was  before,  and  as  it  has  been  since  the  discovery  of  gold  in  its  soil." 
— Syracuse  Journal. 


"Mr.  Colton  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  of  American  'writers.  His  ideas.flow  as  it 
were  spontaneously — one  moment  grave,  then  gay.  One  moment  we  feel,  while 
reading  his  books,  like  weeping  at  some  well-drawn  picture,  and  the  next,  we  can 
hardly  keep  from  splitting  our  sides  with  laughter,  at  some  brilliant,  mkth-provoking 

expression.''''— Republican  Advocate. 


"There  never  was  a  better  illustration  of  the  saying,  that 'Truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction,'  than  is  found  in  this  narrative.  Truly,  the  real  is  a  more  wonderful  world  than 
the  ideal.  When  the  writer  of  this  interesting  and  delightful  book  landed  at  San 
Francisco,  California  was  a  dependency  of  the  Republic  of  Mexico  ;  but  when  he  left 
it,  in  all  but  in  name,  it  was  a  State  of  the  American  Union:  now  it  is  one.  Its  newly 
risen,  but  glorious  star  is  shining  in  the  bright  constellation  where  clusters  the  stars  of 
'ts  sister  States ;  its  senators  and  representatives  are  sitting  with  those  of  the  other 
members  of  the  Confederacy  in  the  halls  of  the  national  legislature,  at  Washington. 
The  causes  that  have  been  so  busily  at  work  in  producing  this  series  of  astonishing 
changes,  are  all  truthfully  detailed  in  this  narrative,  as  they  occurred  from  day  to  day, 
and  as  they  came  under  the  keen  but  discriminating  observation  of  one  who  had  the 
best  opportunity  of  knowing,  as  well  as  the  happiest  manner  of  relating  them.  Any 
thing  like  an  analysis  of  a  volume  so  filled  as  this  is  with  striking  incidents,  crowding 
one  after  another  in  such  rapid  succession,  is  impossible.  As  we  read  on  fi'om  page  to 
page,  we  become  more  and  more  interested,  as  the  things  which  it  records  become 
more  and  more  important,  until  we  seem  to  partake  of  the  wild  enthusiasm  that  raxnX 
have  been  felt  by  the  immediate  actors  in  these  imposing  but  exciting  scenes  of  a  most 
eventful  drama.  For  once  the  sober  dignity  of  histoi-y  is  compelled  to  put  on  the  airs 
and  charms  of  romance.  This  beautiful  volume  can  be  read  with  mingled  pleasure 
and  profit  by  all  who  wish  to  get  coiTCct  ideas  of  the  golden  land,  towards  which  all 
eyes  are  now  turned." — jVian-ara  Democrat. 


"  A  full  account  of  the  appearance  of  that  curious  disease,  'the  gold  fever,'  from  the 
firet  scattering  cases  up  to  the  time  when  the  whole  population  was  infected,  is  admirably 
given,  with  strange  and  amusing  illustrations  of  individual  attacks.  For  the  purpose  of 
fully  studying  the  disease,  the  worthy  alcalde  himself  repaired  to  the  mines,  and  observed 
it  in  all  its  glory.  His  descriptions,  therefore,  must  be  perfect,  from  having  been  made 
upon  the  spot.  The  well-known  ability  and  position  of  the  author,  fitted  him  admirably 
to  observe  and  note  passing  events  in  a  territory  of  such  vast  importance;  and  the 
reader  may  turn  to  the  journal  of  Mr.  Colton  for  an  accurate  chronicle  of  events. 

"  From  humor,  statistics,  description,  historical  narrative,  mining,  agricultural  and 
political  information,  this  ba)k  is  calculated  to  attract  every  class  of  readers." — 
Washington  Union, 


A.   S.   BARNES    i    COMPANY'S    PUBLICATIONS. 

Lady    Willoug  hby' s    Diary. 


LADY     willoughby; 

OR, 

PASSAGES  FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A  ^IFE  AND  IIOTHER  IX  THE 
SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


"This  interesting  and  excellent  book  purports  to  be  a  diarj'  of  a  lady  of  royal  birth 
two  huudred  years  ago.  From  its  being  written  in  a  style  so  simple,  with  so  much  ol 
pure  devotional  and  domestic  feeling,  and  displaying  so  naturally  the  unaffected, 
womanly  thoughts  of  a  daughter,  wile,  and  mother — its  modern  authorship  has  been 
more  than  suspected.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  has  been  deemed  by  many  intelligent 
readers  to  have  emanated  from  Lady  Willoughby  ;  or,  at  all  events,  to  have  been  the 
production  of  an  excellent  mind,  and  one  which  had  undei'gone  the  discipline  of  real 
experience.  The  original  book  was  long  hoarded  up  as  a  literary  curiosity;  but  upon 
examination,  this  ancient  quiu-to,  wiih  'ribbed  paper  and  antique  type,'  was  found  to 
possess  too  much  of  charactei-,  feeling,  and  general  popular  interest,  to  be  shut  up  in 
the  cabinets  of  the  virtuosos.  It  soon  ran  through  the  first  edition,  and  the  present 
beautiful  American  reprint  is  from  the  second  London  issue." — Fredonian. 


"A  most  remarkable  work,  which  we  read,  some  time  ago,  in  the  original  Englian 
shape,  with  great  delight.  Its  character  is  peculiar.  Lady  Willoughby  is  a  fictitious 
character,  personating  an  English  lady  of  the  seventeenth  century,  who,  while  the 
civil  wars  were  raging,  lived  quietly  apart  from  the  scene  of  strife,  bringing  up  her 
children,  and  manifesting  her  conjugal  as  well  as  maternal  affection  in  the  'Diary;' 
which,  had  it  emanated  from  the  pen  of  a  real  Lady  Willoughby  of  the  time,  could 
not  have  been  a  more  beautiful,  a  more  affecting,  or  a  more  instructive  record." — 
J^few  York  Tribune. 


"The  original  edition  of  this  work,  published  in  London,  was  issued  in  quarto  form, 
upon  ribbed  paper  and  antique  type,  and  at  once  attracted  very  general  attention  as  a 
rare  literary  curiosity.  In  the  present  edition,  reprinted  from  the  second  Knglish 
edition,  the  style  of  execution  has  been  modernized,  retaiuing  only  the  capitals,  itiilic? 
and  the  old  spelling.  It  is  a  work  of  high  interest,  in  whatever  light  it  is  viewed  ;  and 
as  a  picture  of  domestic  life  during  the  stormy  period  when  Cromwell  and  Fairfax  and 
other  heroes  of  that  era  filled  so  large  a  space  before  the  public,  it  possesses  a  charm 
which  will  entertain  every  reader.  The  style  is  quaint  though  simple  and  attractive, 
and  the  book  is  a  perfect  gem  in  its  way."— Troy  Budget. 


"This  Diary  purports  to  have  been  written  in  the  stirring  times  of  Charles  the  First 
and  Oliver  Cromwell,  but  the  allusions  to  public  events  are  merely  incidental  to  the 
portraiture  of  Lady  Willoughby's  domestic  life.  Her  picture  of  the  little  pains  and 
trials  which  are  mixed  up  with  the  Joys  that  surround  the  fireside  is  perfect,  and  no 
one  can  fail  to  derive  benefit  from  its  examination.  In  the  very  first  chapter  we  ai'e 
charmed  with  her  simplicity,  her  piety,  and  true  womanly  feeling,  and  learn  to 
reverence  the  fictilinus  iliarist  a.s  a  model  r:)r  the  wife  and  mother  of  the  nineteenth 
century."— JVcicrtr/p  Daily  Mdvertmcr. 


A,  S.  BARNES  &  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS, 


Mansfield    on    American    Education. 


AMERICAN      education: 

ITS    PRINCIPLES    AND    ELEMENTS. 
DEDICATED    TO    THE    TEACHERS    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

BY  EDWAED  D.  MANSFIELD, 

Auilior  of '■'■  Political  Grammar,''''  etc. 

This  work  is  suggestive  of  principles,  and  not  intended  to  point  out  a 
course  of  studies.  Its  aim  is  to  excite  attention  to  what  should  be  the 
elements  of  an  American  education ;  or,  in  other  words,  what  are  tlie 
ideas  connected  with  a  republican  and  Christian  education  in  this  period 
of  rapid  development. 

"The  author  could  not  have  applied  bis  pen  to  the  production  of  a  book  upon  a 
subject  of  more  importance  than  the  one  he  has  chosen.  We  have  had  occasion  to 
notice  one  or  two  new  woikg  on  education  recently,  whicli  indicate  that  the  attention 
of  authors  is  bein?  directed  toward  that  subject.  We  ti-ust  that  those  who  occupy  the 
proud  position  of  teachers  of  American  youtli  will  find  much  in  these  works,  which  are 
a  sort  of  interchange  of  opinion,  to  assist  them  in  the  discharge  of  their  responsible  duties. 

'•'I'he  author  of  the  work  before  us  does  not  point  out  any  particular  course  of  studies 
to  be  pursued,  but  confines  himself  to  the  consideration  of  the  principles  which  should 
govern  te.ichers.  His  views  upon  the  elements  of  an  American  education,  and  its 
bearings  upon  our  institutions,  are  sound,  and  worthy  the  attention  of  those  to  whom 
they  are  particularly  addressed.  We  commend  the  work  to  teachers." — Rochester 
Daily  Advertiser.  ^ 

"We  have  examined  it  with  some  care,  and  are  delighted  with  it.  It  discusses  the 
whole  subject  of  American  education,  and  presents  views  at  once  enlarged  and  compre- 
hensive ;  it,  in  fact,  covers  the  whole  ground.  It  is  high-toned  in  its  moral  and 
religious  bearing,  and  points  out  to  the  student  the  way  in  which  to  be  a  man.  It 
should  be  In  every  public  and  private  library  in  the  country." — Jackson  Patriot. 


"  It  is  an  elevated,  dignified  work  of  a  philosopher,  who  has  written  a  book  on  the 
subject  of  education,  which  is  an  acquisition  of  great  value  to  all  chisses  of  our 
countrymen.  It  can  be  read  witli  interest  and  profit,  by  the  old  and  young,  the 
educated  and  unlearned.  We  hail  it  in  this  era  of  superficial  and  ephemeral  litera- 
ture, as  the  precursor  of  a  better  future.  It  discusses  a  momentous  subject ;  bringing 
to  bear,  in  its  examination,  the  deep  and  labored  thought  of  a  comprehensive  mind. 
We  hope  its  sentiments  may  be  diffused  as  freely  and  as  widely  throughout  our  land 
as  the  air  we  breathe." — Kalamazoo  Oazcttc. 


"  Important  and  comprehensive  as  is  the  title  of  this  work,  we  assure  our  readers  it 
is  no  misnomer.  A  wide  gap  in  the  bulwark  of  this  age  and  this  country  is  greatly 
lessened  by  this  excellent  book.  In  the  first  place,  the  views  of  the  author  on  educa- 
tion, irrespective  of  time  and  place,  are  of  the  highest  order,  contrasting  strongly  with 
the  groveling,  time-seeking  views  so  plausible  and  so  popular  at  the  present  day. 
A  leading  purpose  of  the  author  is,  as  he  says  in  the  preface, '  to  turn  the  thoUMhts  of 
those  engaged  in  the  direction  of  youth  to  the  fact,  that  it  is  the  entire  soul,  in  all  its 
faculties,  which  needs  education.' 

"The  views  of  the  author  are  eminently  philosophical,  and  he  does  not  pretend  to 
enter  into  the  details  of  teaching:  but  his  is  a  practical  philosophy,  having  to  do  vvilh 
living,  abiding  truths,  and  does  not  sneer  at  utility,  though  it  demands  a  utility  that 
takes  hold  of  the  spiritual  part  of  man,  and  reaches  into  his  immortality." — Hotdeii't 
Magazine. 


A.  S.  BARNES   &   COMPANY  S  PUBLICATIONS. 
Mansfield' s  Life  of  General  Scott. 


MANSFIELD'S    LIFE    OF   GENERAL   SCOTT. 


THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL   WINFIELD  SCOTT, 

BT    EDWARD    D.    MANSFIELD. 

This  work  gives  a  full  and  faithful  narrative  of  the  important  eveiita 
with  which  the  name  and  services  of  General  Scott  have  been  con- 
nected. It  contains  numerous  and  ample  references  to  all  the  sourci^s 
and  documents  from  which  the  facts  of  the  history  are  drawn.  Dlus- 
trated  with  Maps  and  Engravings.    12mo.  350  pages. 

From  the  New  York  Tribune. 

We  have  looked  through  it  sufficiently  to  say  with  confidence  mat  it  is  well 
done — a  valuable  addition  to  the  best  of  American  biographies.  Mr.  Mansfield 
does  his  work  thoroughly,  yet  is  careful  not  to  overdo  it,  so  that  his  Life  is  some 
thing  better  than  the  fulsome  panegyrics  of  which  this  class  of  works  is  too  gen 
erally  composed.  General  Scott  has  been  connected  with  some  of  the  most 
stirring  events  in  our  national  history,  and  the  simple  recital  of  his  daring  deeds 
warms  the  blood  like  wine.  We  commend  this  well  printed  volume  to  general 
perusal. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

This  volume  may,  both  from  its  design  and  its  execution,  be  classed  araon? 
what  the  French  appropriately  call  "  memoirs,  to  serve  the  cause  of  history," 
blending,  as  it  necessarily  does,  with  all  the  attraction  of  biographical  incident.'', 
much  of  the  leading  events  of  the  time.  It  is  also  a  contribution  to  the  fund  of 
true  national  glory,  that  which  is  made  up  of  the  self-sacrificing,  meritorious,  aiu; 
perilous  services,  m  whatever  career,  of  the  devoted  sons  of  the  nation. 


From  the  U.  S.  Gazette,  (Philadelphia.) 

A  beautiful  octavo  volume,  by  a  gentleman  of  Cincinnati,  contains  the  abov? 
welcome  history.  Among  the  many  biographies  of  the  eminent  officers  of  tl  i? 
army,  we  have  found  that  that  of  General  Scott  did  not  occupy  its  proper  plnct  : 
but  in  the  "  authentic  and  unimpeachable  history"  of  his  eventful  life  now  pro- 
eented,  that  want  is  satisfied. 


From  the  Cleveland  (Ohio)  Daily  Herald. 

We  are  always  rejoiced  to  see  a  new  book  about  America,  and  oir  countr> 
men,  by  an  American — especially  when  that  book  relates  to  our  history  as  a  lu 
tion,  or  unrolls  those  stirring  events  in  which  our  prominent  men,  both  dead  an. 
liv  ng,  have  been  actors.  As  such  we  hail  with  peculiar  delight  and  pride  U-i 
work  now  before  us  ;  it  has  been  written  by  an  American  hand,  and  dictated  by 
an  American  heart — a  heart  deeply  imbued  with  a  love  of  his  native  land,  its 
iustitutions,  and  distinguished  men. 

j5 


A.  S.   BARNES  &   company's  PUBLICATIONS. 
History  of  the  Mexican  War. 


THE    MEXICAN    WAR: 

A  History  of  its  Origin,  with  a  detailed  Account  of  the  Victories 
whicli  terminated  in  the  surrender  of  the  Capital,  with  tlie  Official 
Despatches  of  the  Generals.  By  Edward  D.  Mansfield,  Esq 
Illustrated  with  numerous  Engfravinffs. 

From  the  Philadelphia  North  American. 

Mr.  Mansfield  is  a  writer  of  superior  merit.  His  style  is  clear,  nervous,  and 
impressive,  and,  while  he  does  not  encumber  his  narrative  with  useless  ornament, 
his  illustrations  are  singularly  apt  and  striking.  A  graduate  of  West  Point,  he  ia 
of  course  familiar  with  military  operations  ;  a  close  and  well  read  student,  he  has 
omitted  no  sources  of  information  necessary  to  the  purposes  of  his  work  ;  and  a 
shrewd  and  investigating  observer,  he  sees  in  events  not  alone  their  outward  as- 
pects, but  the  germs  which  they  contain  of  future  development.  Thus  qualified, 
it  need  hardly  be  said  that  his  history  of  the  war  with  Mexico  deserves  the  am- 
plest commendation. 

From  the  New  York  Tribune. 

▲  clear,  comprehensive,  and  manly  history  of  the  war,  is  needed ;  and  we  are 
glad  to  find  this  desideratum  supplied  by  Mr.  Mansfield's  work. 


From  the  New  York  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

This  is  really  a  history,  and  not  an  adventurer's  pamphlet  destined  to  live  for 
the  hour  and  then  be  forgotten.  It  is  a  volume  of  some  360  pages,  carefully  writ- 
ten, from  authorities  weighed  and  collated  by  an  experienced  writer,'  educated 
at  West  Point,  and  therefore  imbued  w^ith  a  just  spirit  and  sound  views,  illustra- 
ted by  plans  of  the  battles,  and  authenticated  by  the  chief  official  despatches. 

The  whole  campaign  on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  that,  unequalled  in  brilliancy  in 
any  annals,  from  Vera  Cruz  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  are  unrolled  before  the  eyes 
of  t.he  reader,  and  he  follows  through  the  spirited  pages  of  the  narrative,  the  dar- 
ing bands  so  inferior — in  every  thing  but  indomitable  will  and  unwavering  self-re- 
liance, and  military  skill  and  arms— to  the  hosts  that  opposed  them,  but  opposed 
in  vain. 

We  commend  this  book  cordially  to  our  readers. 


From  the  Baptist  Register,  Utica. 

The  military  studies  of  the  talented  editor  of  the  Cincinnati  Chronicle,  admi- 
'•"bly  qualified  him  to  give  a  truthful  history  of  the  stirring  events  connected  with 
the  unhappy  war  now  raging  with  a  sister  republic  ;  and  though  he  declares  in 
his  preface  that  he  felt  no  pleasure  in  tracing  the  causes,  or  in  contemplating  the 
progress  and  final  consequences  of  the  conflict,  yet  his  graphic  pages  give  prix!( 
of  his  ability  and  disposition  to  do  justice  to  the  important  portion  of  our  nation's 
historv  he  has  recorded.  The  very  respectable  house  publishing  t!ic  book,  have 
done  great  credit  to  the  author  and  his  work,  as  well  as  li;  themselves,  lu  th<> 
handsome  style  in  which  they  have  sent  it  forth. 

(aa) 


A.  S.  BARNES  &  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


Davies'  Logic  of  Mathematics. 


DAVIES'    LOGIC  OF  MATHEMATICS. 
The  Logic  and  Utility  of  Mathematics,  with  the  best  methods  of  Instr ac- 
tion, explained  and  illustrated.     By  Charles  Davies,  L.  L.  D. 


"One  of  the  mcist  reinark'ible  bnoks  of  ihe  iiKinth,  is  '  The  Logic  and  Utility  of 
Mnlheiaatics,  liy  Ch;irles  Davies,  L.  L.  I).,'  piii)iisheil  by  Barnes  &  Co.  It  is  nut  in- 
leniled  as  a  treatise  on  any  special  branch  of  iiialheiiiaticai  science,  ami  demands  foi 
lis  full  appreciation  a  general  acquaintance  with  the  leading  methods  and  roiuine  of 
niatheiiialical  investigation.  To  the  e  who  have  a  natural  fondness  for  this  pursuit 
and  enjoy  the  leisure  for  a  retrospect  of  their  favoiit.'  studies,  the  present  volume  will 
possess  a  charm,  not  surpassed  by  the  lascinations  of  a  romance.  It  is  an  elaboraie 
and  lucid  exposition  of  tlie  principles  which  lie  at  the  f  lundation  of  pure  niathein  itics, 
with  a  highly  inL'eaious  application  of  their  results  to  ihe  development  of  the  essen- 
tial idea  of  Arithmetic,  (jcometry,  Algebra,  .Analytic  (ieonietry,  and  the  Dilierential 
and  Integral  Calculus.  The  work  is  preceded  by  a  general  view  of  the  subject  of  Logic, 
mainly  drawn  from  the  writings  of  Archbishop  V\'iialely  and  Mr.  Mill,  and  closes  uilh 
an  essay  on  the  utility  of  niatlieniatics.  Some  occasional  exaggerations,  in  presenting 
the  claims  of  the  science  to  which  his  life  has  been  devoted,  uiust  here  be  pardoned 
to  the  professional  enthusiasm  of  the  author.  In  general,  the  work  is  written  with 
singular  circumspection  ;  the  views  of  the  best  thinkers  on  the  subject  have  been 
thoroughly  digested,  and  are  presented  in  an  original  form  ;  every  thing  bears  the  im- 
press of  the  intellect  of  the  writer  ;  his  style  is  for  the  most  part  chaste,  simjile,  trans- 
parent, and  in  admirable  harmony  with  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  his  condensed 
generalizations  are  often  profound  and  always  suggestive." — Harper's  J^ew  MontlUij 
Magazine. 


"This  work  is  not  merely  a  mathematical  treatise  to  be  used  as  a  text  book,  but  a 
complete  and  philosophical  unfolding  of  the  principles  and  truths  of  mathematical 
science. 

'■  It  is  not  only  designed  for  professional  teacher^,  professional  men,  and  students  of 
mathematics  and  philosophy,  but  for  the  general  reader  who  desires  mental  improve- 
ment, and  would  learn  to  search  out  the  import  of  language,  and  acquire  a  habit  of 
noting  of  coi;ne.xion  between  ideas  and  their  signs  ;  also,  of  the  relation  of  ideas  to 
each  other. —  Tlie  Student. 


"  Students  of  the  Science  will  find  this  volume  full  of  useful  and  deeply  interesting 
matter." — Mbamj  Evening  Journal. 


"  Seldom  have  we  opened  a  book  so  attractive  a.5  this  in  its  typography  and  style  of 
execution  ;  and  there  is  besides,  on  the  margin  opposite  each  section,  an  inde.x  ol'  the 
subject  of  which  it  treats — a  great  convenience  to  the  student.  But  the  matter  is  no 
less  to  be  cominoiided  than  the  manner.  And  we  are  very  much  mistaken  if  this  work 
shall  not  prove  iiinre  popular  and  more  viseful  than  any  which  the  distinguished  author 
has  given  to  the  public." — J^utheran  Observer. 


"  We  have  been  much  interested  both  in  the  plan  and  in  the  execution  of  the  work, 
and  would  recommend  the  study  of  it  to  the  tlieologian  as  a  discipline  in  close  and 
accurate  thinking,  and  in  logical  method  and  reasoning.  It  will  be  useful,  also,  to  the 
general  scholar  and  to  the  practical  mechanic.  We  would  specially  recommend  it  tu 
those  who  waiuld  have  nothing  taught  in  our  Free  Academy  and  other  higher  institu- 
tions but  what  is  directly  '  jiractical' :  nowhere  have  we  seen  a  finer  illustration  of 
the  connection  between  the  abstractly  scientific  and  the  practical. 

'The  work  is  dividejl  into  three  books  ;  the  first  of  which  treats  of  Logic,  mainly 
upon  the  basis  of  Whately  ;  the  second,  of  Mathemelical  Science,  and  the  third,  of  the 
Utility  of  Mathematics." — Independent. 


"Theaithor's  style  is  perspicuous  and  concise,  and  he  exiiibits  a  mastery  of  the 
Rl)struse  topics  which  he  attempts  to  simplify.  For  the  niathem  iiical  student,  who 
desires  an  analytical  knowledge  of  the  science,  and  who  woidd  begin  at  the  beginning, 
we  should  sup|)ose  the  work  would  have  a  sjiecial  utility.  I'rof.  IJavies's  mathemati- 
cal works,  we  bi'lieve,  have  become  quite  popular  with  educators,  and  this  discloses 
"uite  as  much  research  and  practical  scholarship  as  any  we  have  seen  from  his  pea." 
-  -JVeiD-  York  KvaiigcUst. 


A.  S.   BARNES  &  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


B  ar  tlett'  s    Natural    P  hilo  sop  hy  for     Colleges. 
ELEMENTS     OF     NATURAL     PHILOSOPHY. 

IN   THREE    VOLUMES. 

BY   W.   H.   C.  BAETLETT,    LL.D., 

Professor  of  Natural  and  Experimental  Pliilosoijhy  in  tlie  United,  States 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point. 

Vol.  1st.— MECHANICS. 

The  present  volume  is  the  first  of  three,  in  whicli  its  author  desires  to 
offer  to  Academies  and  Colleges  a  Course  of  Natural  Philosophy,  including 
Astronomy.  It  embraces  the  subject  of  Mechanics — the  groundwork  of 
the  whole.  It  is  inten<led  to  be  complete  within  itself,  and  to  have  no 
necessary  dependence  for  the  full  comprehension  of  its  contents  upon 
those  which  are  to  follow. 

"  Rensselaer  Polytechnic  Institute,  Troy,  JV.  K,  Mivember  1,  1850. 
"I  consratulate  Piolessor  Baillett  on  the  result  (il'his  labors,  in  the  protluction  of  the 
present  treatise,  on  a  siiljject  so  eminently  important,  whether  in  its  general  relation  to 
a  system  ot  liberal  culture,  or,  in  a  more  technical  sense,  as  a  foundation  of  the  science 
and  art  of  construction. 

"  With  the  somewhat  hasty  examination  which  I  have  been,  as  yet,  enabled  to  give 
it,  I  cannot  presume  to  indicate  sjiecialities;  but  1  am  abundantly  satisfied  of  its  vast 
advance,  in  every  respect,  upon  any  American  predecessor;  and  it  is  a  consideration 
not  a  liltle  ^ratilying,  that  we  are  now  enabled  to  present  our  students  with  a  manual 
which  shall  exhibit  the  most  important  principles  of  mechanical  science,  in  the  garb 
of  modern  analysis,  vigorously  demonstrated  and  fairly  illustrated,  with  a  fullness  that 
appears  to  leave  little  to  be  desired. 
"We  shall  immediately  adopt  the  work  in  our  institution. 

"1!.  IRANIvLIN  GREENE, 
"Director  and  Professor  of  Mechanics,  etc., 
"  Rensselaer  Polytechnic  Institute,  Troy,  N.  Y." 


"The  work  is  intended  for  the  use  of  students  in  our  highest  colleges  and  institutions 
of  learning,  and  is  much  more  complete  and  serviceable  than  any  thing  of  the  kind 
hitherto  jniblished.  Professor  Bartlett  is  well  known  as  one  of  the  most  thoroughly 
scientific  men  in  the  United  States;  and  the  success  with  which  he  has  presided  over 
this  department  of  instruction  in  the  West  Point  Military  Academy  for  many  years, 
affords  decisive  evidence  of  his  abundant  and  pre-eminent  qualifications  for  the  prepara- 
tion of  such  a  work.  It  is  publishv/d  in  a  large  and  very  eleganlly  priiiied  octavo 
volume,  and  is  very  profusely  illustrated  with  diagrams.  It  is  a  work  which  cannot 
fail,  as  rapidly  as  it  becomes  known,  to  find  its  way  into  all  our  colleges  in  whicli  com- 
pleteness and  thoroughness  of  scholarship  are  properly  prized." — Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"The  progress  of  I'esearch  and  demonstration  constantly  going  on,  requires  an  occa- 
sional recast  of  our  text-books;  and  we  have  every  reason  in  Prof;  Bartlett's  attainments, 
position,  and  facilities,  for  believing  that  the  work  he  has  so  elaborately  undertaken 
will  answer  the  requisitions  of  the  present  advanced  state  of  the  science,  as  well  as  of 
the  improved  method  of  study.  The  present  volume  treats  of  mechanics,  both  of 
solids  and  Huids.  An  introductory  chapter  defines  the  objects  of  the  science,  and  the 
properties  of  bodies.  The  author  possesses  a  concise  and  unambiguous  method,  which 
'8  well  adapted  for  his  purpose;  and  his  demonstrations,  embracing  both  analylical 
=>.ud  synthetic  processes,  are  very  concise  and  clear.  It  is  evident  that  he  has  possessed 
himself  of  all  the  learning  on  his  topics  extant,  and  claims  to  have  embodied,  especially. 
the  best  results  of  the  laboi's  of  two  eminent  French  philosophers— M.  Poncellet  lyid 
M.  Peschel."'— .Yeia  York  £i  mgcliat. 


D 


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